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N V< Ul 



BACON'S ESSAYS 



AND 



WISDOM OF THE A]N^OIEK"TS 



WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE BY A. SPIERS 

PREFACE BY B. MONTAGU, AND NOTES 

BY DIFFERENT WRITERS 




BOSTON 
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPACT 

1884 




l^ 




V 



Copyright, 18S4, 
By Little, Beown, and Company. 



©nt&etsUg IBress: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



In preparing the present volume for the press, use 
has been freely made of several publications which have 
recentl}' appeared in England. The Biographical Notice 
of the author is taken from an edition of the Essaj^s, by 
A. Spiers, Ph. D. To this has been added the Preface 
to Pickering's edition of the Essays and Wisdom of the 
Ancients, by Basil Montagu, Esq. Parker's edition, by 
Thomas Markb}^ M. A., has furnished the arrangement 
of the Table prefixed to the Essa3^s, and also "the 
references to the most important quotations." The 
Notes, including the translations of the Latin, are 
chiefly copied from Bohn's edition, prepared by Joseph 
Devey, M. A. We have given the modern translation 
of the Wisdom of the Ancients contained in Bohn's 
edition, in preference to that "done by Sir Arthur 
Gorges," although the last mentioned has a claim upon 
regard, as having been made by a contemporary of Lord 
Bacon, and published in his lifetime. Its language is 
in the style of English current in the author's age, and 
for this reason may resemble more nearly what the pliil- 
osopher himself would have used, had he composed the 
work in his own tongue instead of Latin. 



I 



CONTENTS. 



Preface by B. Montagu, Esq xi 

Introductory Notice of the Life and Writings of Bacon, by 

A. Spiers, Ph. D 1 



ESSAYS; OR, COUNSELS CIVIL AND MORAL. 



NO. 










1. 


Of Truth . . . 


1625; 




57 


2. 


Of Death . . . 


1612; 


enlarged 1625 ... . 


62 


3. 


Of Unity in Relig- 




Of Religion 1612 ; rewrit- 






ion 




ten 1625 


65 


4. 


Of Revenge . . . 


1625; 




73 


5. 


Of Adversity . . 


1625; 




75 


6. 


Of Simulation and 










Dissimulation 


1625; 




78 


7. 


Of Parents and 










Children . . . 


1612; 


enlarged 1625 . . . . 


82 


8. 


Of Marriage and 










Single Life . . 


1612; 


slightly enlarged 1625 . . 


84 


9. 


Of Envy. . . . 


1625; 





87 


10. 


Of Love .... 


1612; 


rewritten 1625 . . . . 


95 


IL 


Of Great Place . 


1612 ; 


slightly enlarged 1625 


98 


12. 
1 ^^• 


Of Boldness . . 
Of Goodness, and 


1625; 




103 








Goodness of Na- 








1 


ture 


1612; 


enlarged 1625 . . . . 


105 


14. 


Of Nobility . . . 


1612; 


rewritten 1625 . . . . 


110 


15. 


Of Seditious and 










Troubles . . . 


1625; 




113 



VI 



16. 


Of Atheism . . . 


17. 


Of Superstition . 


18. 


Of Travel . . . 


19. 


Of Empire . . . 


20. 


Of Counsels . . 


21. 


Of Delays . . . 


22. 


Of Cunning . . . 


23. 


Of Wisdom for a 




Man's Self . . 


24. 


Of Innovations 


25. 


Of Dispatch . . 


26. 


Of Seeming Wise , 


27. 


Of Friendship . . 


28. 


Of Expense . . 


29. 


Of the true Great- 




ness of Kingdoms 




and Estates . . 


30. 


Of Regimen of 




Health . . . 


31. 


Of Suspicion . . 


32. 


Of Discourse . . 


33. 


Of Plantations . . 


34. 


Of Riches . . . 


35. 


Of Propliecies . . 


36. 


Of Ambition . . 


37. 


Of Masques and 




Triumplis . . . 


38. 


Of Nature in Men 


39. 


Of Custom and Ed- 




ucation . . . 


40. 


Of Fortune . . . 


41. 


Of Usury . . . 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

1612 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 124 

1612; " " " . . 130 

1625; 132 

1612; much enlarged 1625 . . 135 

1612 ; enlarged 1625 .... 143 

1625; 151 

1612 ; rewritten 1625 ... 153 

1612 ; enlarged 1625 .... 159 

1625; 161 

1612; 163 

1612; 166 

1612 ; rewritten 1625 .... 168 
1597 ; enlarged 1612 ; and again 

1625 179 



1612; enlarged 1625 .... 181 

1597 ; enlarged 1612 ; again 

1625 195 

1625; 197 

1597; slightly enlarged 1612; 

again 1625 .... 199 

1625; 202 

1612; much enlarged 1625 . . 207 

1625; 212 

1612; enlarged 1625 .... 217 

1625; 218 

1612; enlarged 1625 .... 223 

1612; " " . . . . 225 

1612 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 228 

1625; . . ". 231 



CONTENTS. vii 

NO. 

42. Of Youth and Age 1612 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 237 

43. Of Beauty . . . 1612; " " " • • 240 

44. Of Deformity . . 1612 ; somewhat altered 1625 . 241 

45. Of Building . . 1625; 243 

46. Of Gardens. . . 1625; 249 

47. Of Negotiating . 1597; enlarged 1612; very 

slightly altered 1625 . 259 

48. Of Followers and 

Friends . . . 1597 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 261 

49. Of Suitors . . . 1597 ; enlarged 1625 . ... 264 

50. Of Studies . . . 1597; '* « . . . . 266 

51. Of Faction . . . 1597; much enlarged 1625 . . 269 

52. Of Ceremonies and 

Respects . . . 1597 ; enlarged 1625 .... 271 

53. Of Praise . . . 1612; " " . . . . 273 

54. Of Vainglory . . 1612; 276 

^5 5 . Of Honor and Bep- 

utation . . . 1597; omitted 1612; repub- 

Hshed 1625 .... 279 

56. Of Judicature . . 1612; 282 

57. Of Anger . . . 1625; 289 

• 58. Of the Vicissitude 

of Things . . . 1625; 292 

APPENDIX TO ESSAYS. 

1. Fragment of an Essay of Fame 301 

2. Of a King ^^•^ 

3. An Essay on Death 307 

THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS ; A SERIES OF 
MYTHOLOGICAL FABLES. 

Preface ^1'' 

1. Cassandra, or Divination. Explained of too free and 

unseasonable Advice 323 

2. Typhon, or a Bebel. Explained of Rebellion ... 324 



viii CONTENTS. 

NO. PAGE 

3. The Cyclops, or the Ministers of Terror. Explained 

of base Court Officers 327 

4. Narcissus, or Self-Love 329 

5. The River Styx, or Leagues. Explained of Necessity, 

in the Oaths or Solemn Leagues of Princes . . . 331 

6. Pan, or Nature. Explained of Natural Philosophy . 333 

7. Perseus, or War. Explained of the Preparation and 

Conduct necessary to War 343 

8. Endymion, or a Eavorite. Explained of Court Eavor- 

ites 348 

9. The Sister of the Giants, or Eame. Explained of 

Public Detraction 350 

10. Acteon and Pentheus, or a Curious Man. Explained 

of Curiosity, or Prying into the Secrets of Princes 

and Divine Mysteries 351 

11. Orpheus, or Philosophy. Explained of Natural and 

Moral Philosophy 353 

12. Coelum, or Beginnings. Explained of the Creation, 

or Origin of all Things 357 

13. Proteus, or Matter. Explained of Matter and its 

Changes 360 

14. Meranon, or a Youth too forward. Explained of the 

fatal Precipitancy of Youth 363 

15. Tythonus, or Satiety. Explained of Predominant 

Passions 364 

16. Juno's Suitor, or Baseness. Explained of Submission 

and Abjection 365 

17. Cupid, or an Atom. Explained of the Corpuscular 

Philosophy 366 

18. Diomed, or Zeal. Explained of Persecution, or Zeal 

for Religion 371 

19. Daedalus, or Mechanical Skill. Explained of Arts and 

Artists in Kingdoms and States 374 

20. Ericthouius, or Imposture. Explained of the improper 

Use of Eorce in Natural Philosophy 378 



CONTENTS. IX 

NO. PAGE 

21. Deucalion, or Restitution. Explained of a useful Hint 

in Natural Philosophy 379 

22. Nemesis, or the Vicissitude of Things. Explained of 

the Reverses of Fortune 380 

23. Achelous, or Battle. Explained of War by Invasion . 383 

24. Dionysus, or Bacchus. Explained of the Passions . 384 

25. Atalanta and Hippomenes, or Gain. Explained of the 

Contest betwixt Art and Nature 389 

26. Prometheus, or the State of Man. Explained of an 

Overruling Providence, and of Human Nature . . 391 

27. Icarus and Scylla and Cliarybdis, or the Middle Way. 

Explained of Mediocrity in Natural and Moral 
Philosophy 407 

28. Sphinx, or Science. Explained of the Sciences . . 409 

29. Proserpine, or Spirit. Explained of the Spirit in- 

cluded in Natural Bodies 413 

30. Metis, or Counsel. Explained of Princes and their 

Council 419 

31. The Sirens, or Pleasures. Explained of Men's Pas- 

sion for Pleasures 420 



PREFACE. 



In the early part of the year 1597, Lord Bacon's first 
publication appeared. It is a small 12mo. volume, en- 
titled ''Essayes, Religious Meditations, Places of Per- 
swasion and Disswasion." It is dedicated 

" To M. Anthony Bacon, his deare Brother. 

" Loniiig and beloned Brother, I doe nowe like some that 
have an Orcharde ill Neighbored, that gather their Fruit be- 
fore it is ripe, to preuent stealing. These Fragments of my 
Conceites were going to print, To labour the stale of them 
had bin troublesome, and subiect to interpretation; to let them 
passe had beene to aduenture the wrong they mought receiue 
by vntrue Coppies, or by some Garnishment, which it mought 
please any that should set them forth to bestow vpon them. 
Therefore I helde it best as they passed long agoe from my 
Pen. without any further disgrace, then the weaknesse of the 
Author. And as I did euer hold, there mought be as great 
a vanitie in retiring and withdrawing mens conceites (except 
they bee of some nature) from the World, as in obtruding 
them : So in these particulars I haue played myself the In- 
quisitor, and find nothing to my vnderstanding in them con- 
trarie or infectious to the state of Religion, or Manners, but 
rather (as I suppose) medecinable. Only I disliked now to 
put them out, because they will be like the late new Halfe- 



xii PREFACE. 

pence, which, though tlie Siluer were good, yet the Peeces 
were small. But since they would not stay with their Mas- 
ter, but would needes trauaile abroade, I haue preferred them 
to you that are next my selfe, Dedicating them, such as they 
are, to our Loue, in the depth whereof (I assure you) I some- 
times wish your Infirmities translated vppon my selfe, that 
her Maiestie mought haue the Seruice of so actiue and able 
a Mind, and I mought be with excuse confined to these Con- 
templations and Studies for which I am fittest, so commend 
I you to the Preseruation of the Diuine Maiestie : From my 
Chamber at Graies Inne, this 30 of Januarie, 1597. Your 
entire Louing Brother, Fran. Bacon." 

The Essays, which are ten in number, abound with 
condensed thought and practical wisdom, neatly, pressly, 
and weightil}' stated, and, like all his early works, are 
simple, without imager}-. The^' are written in his favor- 
ite style of aphorisms, although each essa}- is apparently 
a continued work, and without that love of antithesis 
and false glitter to which truth and justness of thought 
are frequentl}' sacrificed b}' the writers of maxims. 

A second edition, Mnth a translation of the Medita- 
Hones Sacrw^ was published in the next year ; and 
another edition enlarged in 1612, when he was solicitor- 
general, containing thirty-eight essaj's ; and one still 
more enlarged in 1625, containing fifty-eight essa3'S, the 
year before his death. 

The Essa3^s in the subsequent editions are much aug- 
mented, according to his own words: "I always alter 
when I add, so that nothing is finished till all is fin- 
ished," and they are adorned by happy and familiar 
illustration, as in the essa}^ of Wisdom for a Man's 
Self, which concludes, in the edition of 1625, with the 



PREFACE. xiii 

following extract, not to be found in the previous edi- 
tion : " Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches 
thereof, a depraved thing. It is the wisdom of rats, 
that will be sure to leave a house somewhat before it 
fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out the 
badger, who digged and made room for him. It is the 
wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when the}' would 
devour. But that which is specially to be noted is, 
that those which (as Cicero sa3's of Pompey) are Sui 
Amantes sine Hivali ai'e many times unfortunate. And 
whereas the}' have all their time sacrificed to themselves, 
they become in the end themselves sacrifices to the in- 
constanc}^ of Fortune, whose wings they thought, by 
their self wisdom, to have pinioned." 

So in the essay upon Adversity, on which he had 
deepl}' reflected before the edition of 1625, when it first 
appeared, he sa^'S : " Tlie virtue of prosperity is tem- 
perance ; the virtue of adversit}' is fortitude ; which in 
morals is the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the 
blessing of the Old Testament ; adversity is the bless- 
mg of the New, which carrieth the great benediction, 
and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet, even 
in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, 
3'ou shall hear as man}' heai*se-like airs as carols ; and 
the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath labored more in 
describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of 
Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and 
distastes, and adversity is not without comforts and 
hopes. We see in needle- works and embroideries, it 
IS more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and 
solemn ground than to have a dark and melancholy 
work upon a lightsome ground ; judge, therefore, of the 



xiv PREFACE. 

pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Cer- 
tainl}', virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when 
the^^ are incensed, or crushed ; for prosperity doth best 
discover vice, but adversitj^ doth best discover virtue." 

The Essa3's were immediate!}' translated into French 
and Italian, and into Latin, by some of his friends, 
amongst whom were Hacket, Bishop of Lichfield, and 
his constant, affectionate friend, Ben Jonson. 

His own estimate of the value of this work is thus 
stated in his letter to the Bishop of Winchester : "As 
for m}^ Essaj's, and some other particulars of that na- 
ture, I count them but as the recreations of m}^ other 
studies, and in that manner purpose to continue them ; 
though I am not ignorant that these kind of writings 
would, with less pains and assiduity', perhaps yield more 
lustre and reputation to my name than the others I have 
in hand." 

Although it was not likel}' that such lustre and repu- 
tation would dazzle him, the admirer of Phocion, who, 
when applauded, turned to one of his friends, and asked, 
" What have I said amiss? " although popular judgment 
was not likeh^ to mislead him who concludes his obser- 
vations upon ^ he objections to learning and the advan- 
tages of knowledge by sa3ing : " Nevertheless, I do not 
pretend, and I know it will be impossible for me, by 
an}' pleading of mine, to reverse the judgment either of 
uEsop's cock, that preferred the barleycorn before the 
gem ; or of Midas, that being chosen judge between 
Apollo, president of the Muses, and Pan, god of the 
flocks, judged for plent}' ; or of Paris, that judged for 
beauty and love against wisdom and power. For these 
things continue as they have been ; but so will that also 



PREFACE. XV 

continue whereupon learning hath ever relied and which 
faileth not, Justificata est sapientia a filiis suis : " 
3'et he seems to have undervalued this little work, which 
for two centuries has been favorabl}' received by every 
lover of knowledge and of beaut}", and is now so well 
appreciated that a celebrated professor of our own times 
trul}^ saj's : ' ' The small volume to which he has given 
the title of ' Essa3's,' the best known and the most popu- 
iar of all his works, is one of those where the supe- 
riority of his genius appears to the greatest advantage, 
the novelty and depth of his reflections often receiving 
a strong relief from the triteness of the subject. It may 
be read from beginning to end in a few hours ; and 3'et 
after the twentieth perusal one seldom fails to remark 
in it something overlooked before. This, indeed, is a 
characteristic of all Bacon's writings, and is only to be 
accounted for by the inexhaustible aliment they furnish 
to our own thoughts and the S3'mpathetic activit}' they 
impart to our torpid faculties." 

During his life six or more editions, which seem to 
have been pirated, were published ; and after his death, 
two spurious essays, "Of Death," and " Of a King," 
the onl3' authentic posthumous essa3^ being the Frag- 
ment of an Essay on Fame, which was published b3' his 
friend and chaplain, Dr. Rawle3'. 

This edition is a transcript of the edition of 1625, with 
the posthumous essa3's. In the life of Bacon ^ there is a 
minute account of the different editions of the Essays 
and of their contents. 

They may shortly be stated as follows : — 

^ By B. Montagu. Appendix, note 3, I. 
b 



xvi PEEFACE. 

First edition, 1597, genuine. 

There are two copies of this edition in the university 
library at Cambridge ; and tliere is Archbishop San- 
croft's cop3' in Emanuel Library ; there is a copy in the 
Bodleian, and I have a copy. 

Second edition, 1598, genuine. 

Third edition, 1606, pirated. 

Fourth edition, entitled " The Essaies of Sir Francis 
Bacon, Knight, the Kings Solliciter Generall. Imprinted 
at London by lohn Beale, 1612," genuine. It was the 
intention of Sir Francis to have dedicated this edition to 
Henry, Prince of Wales ; but he was prevented by the 
death of the prince on the 6th of November in that year. 
This appears b}" the following letter : — 

To the Host High and Excellent Prince, Henry, Prince of 
Wales, DuJce of Cornwall, and Earl of Chester. 

It may please your Highness : Having divided my life into 
the contemplative and active part, I am desirous to give his 
Majesty and your Highness of the fruits of both, simple though 
they be. To write just treatises, requireth leisure in the writer 
and leisure in the reader, and therefore are not so fit, neither 
in regard of your Higlmess's princely affairs nor in regard of 
my continual service ; which is the cause that hath made me 
choose to write certain brief notes, set down rather significantly 
than curiously, which I have called Essays. The word is late, 
but the thing is ancient ; for Seneca's Epistles to Lucilius, if 
you mark them well, are but Essays ; that is, dispersed medi- 
tations though conveyed in the form of epistles. These labors 
of mine, I know, cannot be worthy of your Highness, for what 
can be worthy of you f But my hope is, they may be as grains 
of salt, that will rather give you an appetite than ofi'end you 
with satiety. And although they handle those things wlierein 



PREFACE. xvii 

both men's lives and their persons are most conversant ; yet 
what T have attained I know not ; but I have endeavored to 
make them not vulgar, but of a nature whereof a man shall 
find much in experience and little in books; so as they are 
neither repetitions nor fancies. But, however, I shall most 
humbly desire your Highness to accept them in gracious part, 
and to conceive, that if I cannot rest but must show my duti- 
ful and devoted affection to your Highness in these things 
which proceed from myself, I shall be much more ready to 
do it in performance of any of your princely commandments. 
And so wishing your Highness all princely felicity, I rest your 
Highness's most humble servant, 
1612. Fr. Bacon. 

It was dedicated as follows : — 

To my loving Brother , Sir John Constable, Knt. 

My last Essaies I dedicated to my deare brother Master 
Anthony Bacon, who is with God. Looking amongst my 
Papers this vacation, I found others of the same nature : 
which, if I myselfe shall not suffer to be lost, it seemeth the 
World will not ; by tlie often printing of the former. Miss- 
ing my Brother, I found you next ; in respect of bond both of 
neare Alliance, and of straight Friendship and Societie, and 
particularly of communication in Studies. Wherein I must 
acknowledge my selfe beholding to you. For as my Businesse 
found rest in my Contemplations, so my Contemplations ever 
found rest in your loving Conference and Judgment. So wish- 
ing you all good, I remaine your louing Brother and Friend, 

FiiA. Bacon. 

Fifth edition, 1612, pirated. Sixth edition, 1613, pi- 
rated. Seventh edition, 1624, pirated. Eighth edition, 
1624, pirated. Ninth edition, entitled, "The Essayes 
or Covnsels, Civill and Morall, of Francis Lo. Vervlam, 



xviii PKEFACE. 

Viscovnt St. Alban. Newl}' enlarged. London, Printed 
by lohn Haviland for Hanna Barret and Richard Whita- 
ker, and are to be sold at the Signe of the King's Head 
in Paul's Churchyard." 1625, genuine. 

This edition is a small quarto of 340 pages ; it clearly 
was published b}^ Lord Bacon ; and in the next 3'ear, 
1626, Lord Bacon died. The Dedication is as follows, 
to the Duke of Buckingham : — 

To the Bight Honorable my very good Lo. the Duke of Buck- 
ingham his Grace, Lo. High Admirall of England. 

Excellent Lo. : — Salomon sales, A good Name is as 
a precious Oyiitment ; and I assure myselfe, such M^il your 
Grace's Name bee, with Posteritie. For your Fortune and 
Merit both, haue beene eminent. And you haue planted things 
that are like to last. I doe now publish my Essayes ; which, 
of all my other Workes, have beene most cun-ant : for that, as 
it seemes, they come home to Mens Businesse and Bosomes. I 
haue enlarged them both in number and weight, so that they 
are indeed a new Work. I thought it therefore agreeable to 
my Affection, and Obligation to your Grace, to prefix your 
Name before them, both in English and in Latine. For I 
doe conceiue, that the Latine Volume of them (being in the 
vniuersal language) may last as long as Bookes last. My 
Instauration I dedicated to the King : my Historic of Henry 
the Seventh (which I haue now also translated into Latine), 
and my Portions of Naturall History, to the Prince : and these 
I dedicate to your Grace : being of the best Fruits, that by 
the good encrease which God gives to my pen and labours, 
I could yeeld. God leade your Grace by the Hand. Your 
Graces most obliged and faithfull Seruant. 

Fk. St. Alban. 



PREFACE. xix 

Of this edition, Lord Bacon sent a cop}^ to the Mar- 
quis Fiat, with the following letter : ^ — 

^' Monsieur l'Ambassadeur mon Filz : Voyant que 
vostre Excellence foict et traite Manages, non seulemeiit entre 
les Princes d'Angleterre et de France, niais aussi entre les 
langues (puis que faictes traduire mon Liure de I'Advance- 
ment des Sciences en Francois) i'ai bien voulu vous envoyer 
mon Liure dernierement imprime que i'avois pourveu pour 
vous, mais i'estois en douhte, de le vous envoyer, pour ce 
qu'il estoit escrit en Anglois. Mais a' ccst'heure pour la raison 
susdicte ie le vous envoye. C'est un Recompilement de mes 
Essays Morales et Civiles; mais tellement enlargies et en- 
richies, tant de nombre que de poix, que c'est de fait un ouvre 
nouveau. Ie vous baise les mains, et reste vostre tres affec- 
tion ee Ami, et tres humble Serviteur. 

THE SAME IN ENGLISH. 

My Lord Ambassador, my Son : Seeing that your Ex- 
cellency makes and treats of Marriages, not only betwixt the 
Princes of France and England, but also betwixt their lan- 
guages (for you have caused my book of the Advancement of 
Learning to be translated into French), I was much inclined 
to make you a present of the last book which I published, and 
which I had in readiness for you. I was sometimes in doubt 
whether I ought to have sent it to you, because it was writ- 
ten in the English tongue. But now, for that very reason, I 
send it to you. It is a recompilement of my Essays Moral 
and Civil ; but in such manner enlarged and enriched both in 
number and weight, that it is in effect a new work. I kiss 
your hands, and remain your most affectionate friend and most 
humble servant, &c. 

Of the translation of the Essaj's into Latin, Bacon 
speaks in the following letter: — 

1 Baconiana, 201. 



XX PREFACE. 

" To Mr. Tobie Mathew : It is true my labors are now 
most set to have those works which I had formerly published, 
as that of Advancement of Learning, that of Henry VII., that 
of the Essays, being retractate and made more perfect, well 
translated into Latin by the help of some good pens which for- 
sake me not. For these modern languages will, at one time 
or other, play the bankrupt with books ; and since I have 
lost much time with this age, I would be glad, as God shall 
give me leave, to recover it with posterity. For the Essay 
of Friendship, while I took your speech of it for a cursory 
request, I took my promise for a compliment. But since you 
call for it, I shall perform it." 

In his letter to Father Fulgentio, giving some account 
of his writings, he saj's : — 

'* The Novum Organum should immediately follow ; but my 
moral and political writings step in between as being more 
finished. These are, the History of King Henry VII., and the 
small book, which, in your language, you have called Saggi 
31oral% but I give it a graver title, that of Sermones Fideles, 
or Interiora Beriim, and these Essays will not only be enlarged 
in number, but still more in substance." 

The nature of the Latin edition, and of the Essays in 
general, is thus stated b}" Archbishop Tenison : — 

" The Essays, or Counsels Civil and Moral, though a by- 
work also, do yet make up a book of greater weight by far 
than the Apothegms ; and coming home to men's business 
and bosoms, his lordship entertained this persuasion concern- 
ing them, that the Latin volume might last as long as books 
should last. His lordship wrote them in the English tongue, 
and enlarged them as occasion served, and at last added to 
them the Colors of Good and Evil, which are likewise found 
in his book De Augmentis. The Latin translation of them was 



PREFACE. xxi 

a work performed by divers hands : by those of Dr. Haeket 
(late Bishop of Lichfield), Mr. Benjamin Jonson (the learned 
and judicious poet,) and some others, whose names I once 
heard from Dr. Rawley, but I cannot now recall them. To 
this Latin edition he gave the title of Sermones Fideles, after 
the manner of the Jews, who called the words Adagies, or 
Observations of the Wise, Faithful Sayings ; that is, credible 
propositions worthy of firm assent and ready acceptance. And 
(as I think), he alluded more particularly, in this title, to a 
passage in Ecclesiastes, where the preacher saith, tnat he 
sought to find out Verba Delectabilia (as Tremellius render- 
eth the Hebrew), pleasant words ] (that is, perhaps, his Book 
of Canticles;) and Verba Fidelia (as the same Tremellius), 
Faithful Sayings ; meaning, it may be, his collection of Prov- 
erbs. In the next verse, he calls them Words of the Wise, 
and so many goads and nails given ab eodem pastore, from the 
same shepherd [of the flock of Israel"]. 

In the year 1638, Rawley published, in folio, a 
volume containing, amongst other works, /Sermones 
Fideles^ ab ipso Honoratissimo Auctore, prceterquam 
in paucis^ Latinitate donati. In his address to the 
reader, he says : — 

Accedunt, quas prius Delibationes Civiles et Morales inscrip- 
serat ; Quas etiam in Linguas plurimas Modernas translatas 
esse novit ; sed eas posted, et Numero, et Pondere, auxit ; In 
tantum, ut veluti Opus Novum videri possint ; Quas mutato 
TituJo, Sermones Fideles, sive Interiora Rerum, inscribi pla- 
cuit. The title-page and dedication are annexed : Sermones 
Fideles sive Interiora Rerum. Per Franciscum Baconuyn Bare* 
ronem de Vervlamio, Vice-Comitem Sancti Albani. Londini 
Excusum typis Edwardi Griffin. Prostant ad Insignia Megia 
in Coemeterio D. PauU, apud Eichardum Whitakerum, 1638. 



xxii PREFACE. 

Illustri et Excellenti Domino Georgia Duci Buckinghmnice, 
Summo Anglice Adinirallio. 

Honoratissime Bomine, Salomon inquit, Nomen honiim est 
instar Vnguenti fragrantis et pretiosi ; Neque dubito, quin tale 
futurum sit Nomen tuum apud Posteros. Etenim et For- 
tuna, et Merita tua, prsecelluerunt. Et videris ea plantasse, 
quae sint duratura. In lucein jam edere mihi visum est Deliha- 
tiones meas, quae ex omnibus meis Operibus fuerunt acceptis- 
simse : Quia forsitan videntur, prse cseteris, Hominum Negotia 
stringere, et in sinus fluere. Eas autem auxi, et Numero, et 
Pondere ; In tantum, ut plane Opus Novum sint. Consenta- 
neum igitur duxi, Affectui, et Obligation! mese, erga lUustris- 
simam Dominationem tuam, ut Nomen tuum illis prsefigam, 
tam in Editione Anglicd, quam Latind. Etenim, in bona 
spe sum, Volumen earum in Latinam {Linguam scilicet uni- 
versalem), versum, posse durare, qnamdiu Libi'i et Literce 
durent. Instaurationem meam Begi dicavi : Historiam Begni 
Henrici Septimi (quam etiam in Latinum verti et Poitiones 
meas Naturalis Histories, Principi) : Has autem Delihationes 
Illustrissimce Dominationi tuse dico, Cum sint, ex Fructibus 
optimis, quos Gratia divina Calami mei laboribus indulgeute, 
exhibere potui. Deus illustrissimam Dominationem tuam mauu 
ducat, niustrissimce Dominationis tuse Servus Devinctissimus 
et Fidelis. Fr. S. Alban. 

In the 3-ear 1618, the Essa3-s, together with the Wis- 
dom of the Ancients, was translated into Italian, and 
dedicated to Cosmo de 3Iedici, by Tobie Mathew ; and 
in the following 3'ear the Essaj's were translated into 
French by Sir Arthur Gorges, and printed in London. 



PREFACE. xxiii 



WISDOM OF THE ATs^CIENTS. 

In the 3'ear 1609, as a relaxation from abstruse specu- 
lations, he published in Latin his interesting little work, 
De Sapientia Veterum. 

This tract seems, in former times, to have been much 
valued. The fables, abounding with a union of deep 
thought and poetic beaut}', are thirtj'-one in number, 
of which a part of The Sirens, or Pleasures, ma}' be 
selected as a specimen. 

In this fable he explains the common but erroneous 
supposition that knowledge and the conformit}^ of the 
will, knowing and acting, are convertible terms. Of 
this error, he, in his essaj- of Custom and Education, 
admonishes his readers, by saying: "Men's thoughts 
are much according to their inclination ; their discourse 
and speeches according to their learning and infused 
opinions, but their deeds are after as they have been 
accustomed ; ^sop's Damsel, transformed from a cat 
to a woman, sat very demurely at the board-end till a 
mouse ran before her," In the fable of the Sirens he 
exhibits the same truth, saying: "The habitation of 
the Sirens was in certain pleasant islands, from whence, 
as soon as out of their watchtower the}^ discovered an}' 
ships approaching, with their sweet tunes they would 
first entice and stay them, and, having them in their 
power, would destro}" them ; and, so great were the mis- 
chiefs the}" did, that these isles of the Sirens, even as 
far off as man can ken them, appeared all over white 
with the bones of unburied carcasses ; by which it is 
signified that albeit the examples of aflSictions be mani- 



xxiv PEEFACE. 

fest and eminent, yet they do not sufficiently deter us 
from the wicked enticements of pleasure." 

The following is the account of the different editions 
of this work : The first was published in 1609. In Feb- 
ruary 27, 1610, Lord Bacon wrote to Mr. Mathew, upon 
sending his book De Sapientia VeteruTn : — 

" Mr. Mathew : I do very heartily thank you for your let- 
ter of the 24th of August, from Salamanca j and in recom- 
pense therefore I send you a httle work of mine that hath 
begun to pass the world. They tell me my Latin is turned 
into silver, and become current : had you been here, you should 
have been my inquisitor before it came forth ; but, I think, the 
greatest inquisitor in Spain will aUow it. But one thing you 
must pardon me if I make no haste to beheve, that the world 
should be grown to such an ecstasy as to reject truth in philoso- 
phy, because the author dissenteth in religion ; no more than 
they do by Aristotle or Averroes. My great work goeth for- 
ward J and after my manner, I alter even when I add ; so that 
nothing is finished till all be finished. This I have written in 
the midst of a term and parliament ; thinking no time so pos- 
sessed, but that I should talk of these matters with so good 
and dear a friend. And so with my wonted wishes I leave 
you to God's goodness. 

"From Gray's Inn, Feb. 27, 1610." 

And in his letter to Father Fulgentio, giving some 
account of his writings, he says : " My Essaj^s will not 
onl3"be enlarged in number, but still more in substance. 
Along with them goes the little piece De Sapientia 
Veterum.'' 

In the Advancement of Learning he saj'S : — 

*' There remaiueth yet anotlier use of poesy parabolical, 
opposite to that which we last mentioned ; for that tendeth 



PREFACE. XXV 

to demonstrate and illustrate that which is taught or deliv- 
ered, and this other to retire and obscure it ; that is, when the 
secrets and mysteries of religion, policy, or philosophy are in- 
volved in fables or parables. Of this in divine poesy we see 
the use is authorized. In heathen poesy we see the exposition 
of fables doth fall out sometimes with great felicity ; as in the 
fable that the giants being overthrown in their war against 
the gods, the earth, their mother, in revenge thereof brought 
forth Fame, — 

Illam Terra parens, ird irritata Deorum, 
Extremam, ut perhihent, Coeo Enceladoque sororem 
Progenuit^ 

expounded, that when princes and monarchs have suppressed 
actual and open rebels, then the malignity of the people, which 
is the mother of rebellion, doth bring forth libels and slanders, 
and taxations of the State, which is of the same kind with 
rebellion, but more feminine. So in the fable, that the rest 
of the gods having conspired to bind Jupiter, Pallas called 
Briareus, with his hundred hands, to his aid ; expounded, that 
monarchies need not fear any curbing of their absoluteness by 
mighty subjects, as long as by wisdom they keep the hearts 
of the people, who will be sure to come in on their side. So 
in the fable, that Achilles was brought up under Chiron, the 
centaur, who was part a man and part a beast, expounded 
ingeniously, but corruptly by Machiavel, that it belongeth to 
the education and discipline of princes to know as well how 
to play the part of the lion in violence, and the fox in guile, 
as of the man in virtue and justice. Nevertheless, in many 
the like encounters, I do rather think that the fable was first, 
and the exposition then devised, than that the moral was 
first, and thereupon the fable framed. For I find it was an 
ancient vanity in Chrysippus, that troubled himself with great 
contention to fasten the assertions of the stoics upon the fic- 
tions of the ancient poets ; but yet that all the fables and 
fictions of the poets were but pleasure, and not figure, I 



xxvi PREFACE. 

interpose no opinion. Surely, of those poets which are now 
extant, even Homer himself (notwithstanding he was made a 
kind of Scripture by the latter schools of the Grecians), yet I 
should without any difficulty pronounce that his fables had no 
such inwardness in his own meaning; but what they might 
have upon a more original tradition, is not easy to affirm ; for 
he was not the inventor of many of them." 

In the treatise J)e Aiigmentis the same sentiments 
will be found, with a slight alteration in the expres- 
sions. He saj's : — 

'' There is another use of parabolical poesy opposite to the 
former, which tendeth to the folding up of those things, the 
dignity whereof deserves to be retired and distinguished, as 
with a drawn curtain; that is, when the secrets and mysteries 
of religion, policy, and philosophy are veiled and invested with 
fables and parables. But whether there be any mystical sense 
couched under the ancient fables of the poets, may admit some 
doubt ; and, indeed, for our part, we incline to this opinion, 
as to think that there was an infused mystery in many of the 
ancient fables of the poets. Neither doth it move us that these 
matters are left commonly to school-boys and grammarians, 
and so are embased, that we should therefore make a slight 
judgment upon them, but contrariwise, because it is clear that 
the A^Titings which recite those fables, of all the writings of 
men, next to sacred writ, are the most ancient; and that the 
fables themselves are far more ancient than they (being they 
are alleged by those writers, not as excogitated by them, but 
as credited and recepted before) seem to be, like a thin rarefied 
air, which, from the traditions of more ancient nations, fell into 
the flutes of the Grecians." 

Of this tract, Archbishop Tenison, in his Baconiana^ 
says : — 



PREFACE. xxvii 

" In the seventh place, I may reckon his book De Sapientia 
Veterum, written by him in Latin, and set forth a second time 
with enhirgement; and transhited into EngUsh by Sir Ailhur 
Gorges ; a book in which the sages of former times are ren- 
dered more wise than it may be they were, by so dexterous an 
interpreter of their fables. It is this book which Mr. Sandys 
means, in those words which he hath put before his notes on the 
Metamorphosis of Ovid. ' Of modern writers, I have received 
the greatest light from Geraldus, Pontanus, Ficinus, Vives, 
Comes, Scaliger, Sabiuus, Pierius, and the crown of the lat- 
ter, the Viscount of St. Albans.^ 

'^ It is true, the design of this book was instruction in natu- 
ral and civil matters, either couched by the ancients under 
those fictions, or rather made to seem to be so by his lord- 
ship's wit, in the opening and applying of them. But because 
the first ground of it is poetical story, therefore, let it have this 
place till a fitter be found for it." 

The author of Bacon's Life, in the BiograpMa Britan- 

nica^ says : — 

'^ That he might relieve himself a little from the severity of 
these studies, and, as it were, amuse himself with erecting a 
magnificent pavilion, while his great palace of philosophy was 
building, he composed and sent abroad, in 1610, his celebrated 
treatise of the Wisdom of the Ancients, in which he showed 
that none had studied them more closely, was better acquainted 
with their beauties, or had pierced deeper into their meaning. 
There have been very few books published, either in this or 
any other nation, which either deserved or met with more gen- 
eral applause than this, and scarce any that are like to retain 
it longer, for in this performance Sir Francis Bacon gave a 
singular proof of his capacity to please all parties in literature, 
as in his political conduct he stood fair with all the parties 
in the nation. The admirers of antiquity were charmed with 
this discourse, w^iich seems expressly calculated to justify their 



xxviii PREFACE. 

admiration; and, on tlie other hand, their opposites were no 
less pleased with a piece from which they thought they could 
demonstrate that the sagacity of a modern genius had found 
out much better meanings for the ancients than ever were 
meant by them." 

And Mallet, in his Life of Bacon, sa3'S : — 

^^In IGIO he published another treatise, entitled, Of the 
Wisdom of the Ancients. This work bears the same stamp 
of an original and inventive genius with his other perform- 
ances. Resolving not to tread in the steps of those who had 
gone before him, men, according to his own expression, not 
learned beyond certain commonplaces, he strikes out a new 
tract for himself, and enters into the most secret recesses of 
this wild and shadowy region, so as to appear new on a known 
and beaten subject. Upon the whole, if we cannot bring our- 
selves readily to believe that there is all the physical, moral, 
and political meaning veiled under those fables of antiquity, 
which he has discovered in them, we must own that it required 
no common penetration to be mistaken with so great an appear- 
ance of probability on his side. Though it still remains doubt- 
ful whether the ancients were so knowing as he attempts to 
show they were, the variety and depth of his own knowledge 
are, in that very attempt, unquestionable." 

In the year 1619 this tract was translated by Sir 
Arthur Gorges. Prefixed to the work are two letters ; 
the one to the Earl of Salisbur}', the other to the Uni- 
versity of Cambridge, which Gorges omits, and dedi- 
cates his translation to the high and illustrious princess 
the Lady EUzabeth of Great Britain, Duchess of Ba^dare, 
Countess Palatine of Rheine, and chief electress of the 
empire. 

This translation, it should be noted, was published 



PREFACE. 



XXIX 



during the life of Lord Bacon by a great admirer of his 
works. 

The editions of this work with which I am acquainted 
are : — 



Year. 


Language. 


Printer. 


Place. 


Size. 


1609 


Latin, 


R. Barker, 


London, 


12mo. 


1617 


(( 


J. Bill, 


(« 


(( 


1618 


Italian, 


G. Bill, 


« 


(< 


1619 


English, 


J. Bill, 


(( 


tt 


1620 


« 


" 


(( 


ii 


1633 


Latin, 


F. Maire, 


Lug. Bat., 


ft 


1634 


" 


F. Kingston, 


London, 


K 


1638 


(C 


E. Griffin, 


t< 


Folio. 


1691 


(( 


H. Wetstein, 


Amsterdam, 


12mo. 


1804 


French, 


H. Frantin, 


Dijon, 


8vo. 



NOTICE 

OF 

FRANCIS BACON. 



Francis Bacon, the subject of the following 
memoir, was the youngest son of highly remarkable 
parents. His father, Sir Nicholas Bacon, was an 
eminent lawyer, and for twenty years Keeper of the 
Seals and Privy Counsellor to Queen Elizabeth. Sir 
Nicholas was styled by Camden sacris conciliis cilte- 
rum columen; he was the author of some unpub- 
lished discourses on law and politics, and of a 
commentary on the minor prophets. He discharged 
the duties of his high office with exemplary pro- 
priety and wisdom ; he j)reserved through life the 
integrity of a good man, and the moderation and 
simplicity of a great one. He had inscribed over 
the entrance of his hall, at Gorhambury, the motto, 
mediocria firma ; and when the Queen, in a progress, 
paid him a visit there, she remarked to him that his 
house was too small for him. " Madam," answered 
the Lord Keeper, "my house is well, but it is you 



2 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 

that have made me too great for my house." This 
anecdote has been preserved by his son/ who, had 
he as carefully retained the lesson of practical wis- 
dom it contained, might have avoided the misfor- 
tunes and sorrows of his checkered life. 

Bacon's mother, Anne Cooke, was the daughter 
of Sir Anthony Cooke, tutor to King Edward the 
Sixth ; like the young ladies of her time, like Lady 
Jane Grey, like Queen Elizabeth, she received an 
excellent classical education ; her sister. Lady Bur- 
leigh, was pronounced by Roger Ascham, Queen 
Elizabeth's preceptor, to be, with the exception of 
Lady Jane Grey, the best Greek scholar among the 
young women of England.^ Anne Cooke, the future 
Lady Bacon, corresponded in Greek with Bishop 
Jewel, and translated from the Latin this divine's 
Apologia ; a task which she performed so well that 
it is said the good prelate could not discover an 
inaccuracy or suggest an alteration. She also trans- 
lated from the Italian a volume of sermons on fate 
and freewill, written by Bernardo Ochino, an Italian 
reformer. Francis Bacon, the youngest of five sons, 

^ Bacon's Apophthegms. 

2 It is not surprising that ladies then received an education 
rare in our own times. It should be remembered that in the 
sixteenth century Latin was the language of courts and schools, 
of diplomacy, politics, and theology ; it was the universal lan- 
guage, and there was then no literature in the modern tongues, 
except the Italian ; indeed all knowledge, ancient and modern, 
was conveyed to the world in the language of the ancients. The 
great productions of Athens and Rome were the intellectual all of 
our ancestors down to the middle of the sixteenth century. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 3 

inheritsd the classical learning and taste of both his 
parents. 

He was born at York House, in the Strand, Lon- 
don, on the 22d of January, 1560-61. His health, 
when he was a boy, was delicate ; a circumstance 
which may perhaps account for his early love of 
sedentary pursuits, and probably the early gravity 
of his demeanor. Queen Elizabeth, he tells us, 
took particular dfelight in "trying him with ques- 
tions," when he was quite a child, and was so much 
pleased with the sense and manliness of his answers 
that she used jocularly to call him " her young Lord 
Keeper of the Seals." Bacon himself relates that 
while he was a boy, the Queen once asked him his 
age ; the precocious courtier readily replied that he 
" was just two years younger than her happy reign." 
He is said, also, when very young, to have stolen 
away from his playfellows in order to investigate 
the cause of a singular echo in St. James's Fields, 
which attracted his attention. 

Until the age of thirteen he remained under the 
tuition of his accomplished mother, aided by a pri- 
vate tutor only ; under their care he attained the 
elements of the classics, that education preliminary 
to the studies of the University. At thirteen he 
was sent to Trinity College, Cambridge, where his 
father had been educated. Here he studied dili- 
gently the great models of antiquity, mathematics, 
and philosophy, worshipped, however, but indevoutly 
at the shrine of Aristotle, whom, according to Raw- 



4 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

ley, his chaplain and biographer, he already derided 
" for the unfniitfulness of the way, — being only 
strong for disputation, but barren of the production 
of works for the life of man." He remained three 
years at this seat of learning, without, however, 
taking a degree at his departure. 

When he was but sixteen years old he began his 
travels, the indispensable end of every finished edu- 
cation in England. He repaired 'to Paris, where he 
resided some time under the care of Sir Amyas Paulet, 
the English minister at the court of France. 

Here he invented an ingenious method of writing 
in cipher ; an art which he probably cultivated with 
a view to a diplomatic career. 

He visited several of the provinces of France and 
of the towns of Italy. Italy was then the country 
in which human knowledge in all its branches was 
most successfully cultivated. It is related by Signer 
Cancellieri that Bacon, when at Rome, presented 
himself as a candidate to the Academy of the Lincei, 
and was not admitted.^ He remained on the conti- 
nent for three years, until his father's death, in 1580. 
The melancholy event, which bereft him of his 
parent, at the age of nineteen, was fatal to his pros- 
pects. His father had intended to purchase an es- 
tate for his youngest son, as he had done for his 
other sons; but he dying before this intention was 

1 Prospetto delle Memoric aneddotc dei Lincei da F. Cancellieri. 
Koma, 1823. This fact is quoted by Monsieur Cousin, in a note to 
his Fragments dc Philosophic CarUsicnne. 



NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 5 

realized, the money was equally divided between 
all the children; so that Francis inherited but one 
fifth of that fortune intended for him alone. He 
was the only one of the sons that was left unprovided 
for. He had now "to study to live," instead of 
" living to study." He wished, to use his own lan- 
guage, "to become a true pioneer in that mine of 
truth which lies so deep." He applied to the gov- 
ernment for a provision which his father's interest 
would easily have secured him, and by which he 
might dispense with a profession. The Queen must 
have looked with favor upon the son of a minister, 
who had served her faithfully for twenty long years, 
and upon a young man whom, when he was a child, 
she had caressed, she had distinguished by the appel- 
lation of her "young Lord Keeper." But Francis 
Bacon was abandoned, and perhaps opposed by the 
colleague and nearest friend of his father, the brother- 
in-law of his mother, his maternal uncle. Lord Bur- 
leigh, then Prime Minister, who feared for his son 
the rivalry of his all-talented nephew. It is a trick 
common to envy and detraction, to convert a man's 
very qualities into their concomitant defects ; and 
because Bacon was a great thinker, he was repre- 
sented as unfit for the active duties of business, as 
" a man rather of show than of depth," as " a specu- 
lative man, indulging himself in philosophical rever- 
ies, and calculated more to perplex than to promote 
public business." ^ Thus was the future ornament 

1 Sir Robert Cecil. 



6 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

of his country and of mankind sacrificed to Robert, 
afterwards Sir Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, of 
whose history fame has learned but little, save the 
execution of Essex and Mary Queen of Scots, the 
name, and this petty act of mean jealousy of his 
father ! In the disposal of patronage and place, acts 
and even motives of this species are not so unfre- 
quent as the world would appear to imagine. In 
all ages, it is to be feared, many and great, as in 
Shakspeare's time, are, 

the spurns 
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes. 

It is, however, but justice to the morals of Lord 
Burleigh, to add that he was insensible to literary 
merit ; he thought a hundred pounds too great a 
reward to be given to Sj^enser for what he termed 
"an old song," for so he denominated the Faery 
Queen, 

Bacon then selected the law as his profession; 
and in 1 580 he was entered of Gray's Inn ; ^ he 
resisted the temptations of his companions and 
friends, (for his company was much courted), and 
diligently pursued the study he had chosen ; but he 
did not at this time entirely lose sight of his philo- 
sophical speculations, for he then published his Tem- 
imris partus maximus, or The Greatest Birth of Time, 
This work, notwithstanding its pompous title, was 
unnoticed or rather fell stillborn from the press ; the 

1 Gray's Inn is one of the four Inns or companies for the study 
of law. 



NOTICE OF FKANCTS BACON. 7 

sole trace of it is found in one of his letters to Father 
Fulgentio. 

In 1586, he was called to the bar; his practice 
there appears to have been limited, although not 
without success ; for the Queen and the Court are 
said to have gone to hear him when he was engaged 
in any celebrated cause. He was, at this period of 
his life, frequently admitted to the Queen's presence 
and conversation. He was appointed her Majesty's 
Counsel Extraordinary,^ but he had no salary and 
small fees. 

In 1592, his uncle, the Lord Treasurer, procured 
for him the reversion of the registrarship of the Star 
Chamber, worth sixteen hundred pounds (forty thou- 
sand francs) a year; but the office did not become 
vacant till twenty years after, so that, as Bacon 
justly observes, ''it might mend his prospects, but 
did not fill his barns." 

A parliament was summoned in 1593, and Bacon 
was returned to tlie House of Commons, for the 
County of Middlesex ; he distinguished himself here 
as a speaker. ''The fear of every man who heard 
him," says his contemporary, Ben Jonson, "was 
lest he should make an end." He made, however, 
on one occasion a speech which much displeased 
t!ie Queen and Court. Elizabeth directed the Lord 

1 King's or Queen's Counsel are barristers that plead for the 
government ; they receive fees but no salary ; the first were 
appointed in the reign of Charles II. Queen's Counsel extraordi- 
nary was a title peculiar to Bacon, granted, as the patent specially 
states, honoris causa. 



8 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Keeper to intimate to him that he must expect 
neither favor nor promotion ; the repentant courtier 
replied in writing, that "her MajcvSty's favor was 
dearer to him than his life." ^ 

In the following year the situation of Solicitor- 
General 2 became vacant. Bacon ardently aspired to 
it. He applied successively to Lord Burleigh, his 
uncle, to Lord Puckering, his father's successor, to 
the Earl of Essex, their rival, and finally to the Queen 
herself, accompanying his letters, as was the custom 
of the times, with a present, a jewel.^ But once 
more he saw mediocrity preferred, and himself rejected. 
A Serjeant Fleming was appointed her Majesty's 
Solicitor-General. Bacon, overwhelmed by this dis- 
appointment, wished to retire from public life, and to 
reside abroad. " I hoped," said he in a letter to Sir 
Robert Cecil, " her Majesty would not be offended 
that, not able to endure the sun, I fled into the shade." 

The Earl of Essex, whose mind, says Mr. Ma- 
caulay, " naturally disposed to admiration of all that 

1 Letter to Lord Burleigh. 

2 The Solicitor-General is a law-officer inferior in rank to the 
Attorney-General, with whom he is associated in the manage- 
ment of the law business of the crown. He pleads also for pri- 
vate individuals, but not against government. He has a small 
salary, but very considerable fees. The salary in Bacon's time 
was but seventy pounds. 

^ Bacon was, like other courtiers, in the habit of presenting 
the Queen with a New Year's gift. On one occasion, it was a 
white satin petticoat embroidered with snakes and fruitage, as 
emblems of wisdom and beauty. The donors varied in rank from 
the Lord Keeper down to the dust-man. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 9 

is great and beautiful, was fascinated by the genius 
and the accomplishments of Bacon," ^ had exerted 
every effort in Bacon's behalf; to use his own lan- 
guage, he "spent all his power, might, authority, 
and amity ; " he now sought to indemnify him, and, 
with royal munificence, presented him with an estate 
of the value of nearly two thousand pounds, a sum 
worth perhaps four or five times the amount in the 
money of our days. If anything could enhance the 
benefaction, it was the delicacy with which it was 
conferred, or, as Bacon himself expresses it, "with 
so kind and noble circumstances as the manner was 
worth more than the matter." 

Bacon published his Essays in 1597 ; he considered 
them but as the " recreations of his other, studies." 
The idea of them was probably first suggested by 
Montaigne's Essais, but there is little resemblance 
between the two works beyond the titles. The 
first edition contained but ten Essays, which were 
shorter than they now are. The work was reprinted 
in 1598, with little or no variation; again in 1606; 
and in 1612 there was a fourth edition, etc. How- 
ever, he afterwards, he says, "enlarged it both in 
number and Aveight ; " but it did not assume its 
present form until the ninth edition, in 1625, that 
is, twenty-eight years after its first publication, and 
one year before the death of the author. It ap- 
peared under the new title of The Essaies or Covn- 
sels Civill and Morally of Francis Lo, Vervlarrij 

1 Essays. 



10 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Viscovnt St. Alban. Newly enlarged. This is not 
followed by the Religious Meditations, Places of 
Perswasion and Disswasion, seene and alloived. The 
Essays were soon translated into Italian with the title 
of Saggi Morali del Signore Francesco Bacono, Cav- 
agliero Inglese, Gran Cancelliero d' Inghilterra. 
This translation was dedicated to Cosmo de Medici, 
Grand Duke of Tuscany ; and was reprinted in Lon- 
don in 1618. Of the three Essays added after 
Bacon's decease, two of them, Of a King and Of 
Death, are not genuine ; the Fragment of an Essay 
on Fame alone is Bacon's. 

In this same year (1597) he again took his seat 
in Parliament. He soon made ample amends for 
his opposition speech in the previous session ; but 
this time he gained the favor of the Court with- 
out forfeiting his popularity in the House of 
Commons. 

He now thought of strengthening his interest, or 
increasing his fortune, by a matrimonial connection ; 
and he sought the hand of a rich w^dow, Lady 
Hatton, his second cousin ; but here he was again 
doomed to disappointment ; a preference was given 
to his old rival, the Attorney-General, Sir Edward 
Coke, notwithstanding the " seven objections to 
him — his six children and himself." But although 
Bacon was perhaps unaware of it, the rejection of 
his suit was one of the happiest events of his life ; 
for the eccentric manners and violent temper of the 
lady rendered her a torment to all around her, and 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 11 

probably most of all to her husband. In reality, 
as has been wittily observed, the lady was doubly 
kind to him ; '^ she rejected him, and she accepted 
his enemy." 

Another mortification awaited him at this period. 
A relentless creditor, a usurer, had him arrested for 
a debt of three hundred pounds, and he was con- 
veyed to a spunging-house, where he was confined 
for a few days, until arrangements could be made 
to satisfy the claim or the claimant. 

We now arrive at a painfully sad point in the life 
of Bacon ; a dark foul spot, which should be hidden 
forever, did not history, like the magistrate of Egypt 
that interrogated the dead, demand that the truth, 
the whole truth, should be told. 

We have seen that between Bacon and the Earl 
of Essex, all was disinterested afiection on the part 
of the latter; the Earl employed his good offices 
for him, exerted heart and soul to insure his success 
as Solicitor-General, and, on Bacon's failure, con- 
ferred on him a princely favor, a gift of no ordinary 
value. 

When Essex's fortunes declined, and the Earl fell 
into disgrace. Bacon endeavored to mediate between 
the Queen and her favorite. The case became hope- 
less. Essex left his command in Ireland without 
leave, was ordered in confinement, and after a long 
imprisonment and trial before the Privy Council, he 
was liberated. Irritated by the refusal of a favor 
he solicited, he was betrayed into reflections on the 



12 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

Queen's age and person, which were never to be 
forgiven, and he engaged in a conspiracy to seize 
on the Queen, and to settle a new plan of govern- 
ment. On the failure of this attempt, he was ar- 
rested, committed to the Tower, and brought to trial 
for high treason before the House of Peers. During 
his long captivity, who does not expect to see Bacon, 
his friend, a frequent visitor in his cell ? Before 
the two tribunals, can we fail to meet Bacon, his 
counsel, at his side? We trace Bacon at Court, 
where, he assures us, after Elizabeth's death, that 
he endeavored to appease and reconcile the Queen ; 
but the place was too distant from the prison : for 
he never visited there his fallen friend. 

At the first trial, Bacon did indeed make his ap- 
pearance, but as " her Majesty's Counsel extraordi- 
nary," not for the defence, but for the prosecution 
of the prisoner. But he may be expected at least 
to have treated him leniently? He admits he did 
not, on account, as he tells us, of the *^ superior 
duty he owed to the Queen's fame and honor in a 
public proceeding." But hitherto, the Earls liberty 
alone had been endangered ; now, his life is at stake. 
Do not the manifold favors, the munificent benefac- 
tions all arise in the generous mind of Bacon ? Does 
he not waive all thought of interest and promotion 
and worldly honor to devote himself wholly to the 
sacred task of sa\ang his patron, benefactor, and 
friend? Her Majesty's Counsel extraordinary ap- 
peared in the place of the Solicitor-General, to reply 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 13 

to Essex's defence ; he compared the accused first 
to Cain, then to Pisistratus. The Earl made a 
pathetic appeal to his judges; Bacon showed he 
had not answered his objections, and compared him 
to the Duke of Guise, the most odious comparison 
he could have instituted. Essex was condemned ; 
the Queen wavered in her resolution to execute 
him; his friend's intercession might perhaps have 
been able to save Essex from an ignominious death. 
Did Bacon, in his turn, " spend all his power, might, 
and amity?" The Queen's Counsel extraordinary 
might have oftended his sovereign by his importu- 
nity, and have been forgotten in the impending 
vacancy of the office of Solicitor- General ! Essex 
died on the scaffold. But the execution rendered 
the Queen unpopular, and she was received with 
mournful silence when she appeared in public. She 
ordered a pamphlet to be written to justify the exe- 
cution ; she made choice of Bacon as the writer; 
the courtier did not decline the task, but published 
A Declaration of the Practices and Treasons at- 
tempted and committed by Robert, late Earle of Es- 
sex and his Complices, against her Maiestie and her 
Kingdoms. This faithless friend, to use the lan- 
guage of Macaulay, ^' exerted his professional talents 
to shed the Earl's blood, and his literary talents to 
blacken the Earl's memory." 

The memory of Essex suffered but little from the 
attack of the pamphlet ; the base pamphleteer's mem- 
ory is blackened forever, and to his fair name of "the 



14 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

wisest, brightest," has been appended the " meanest 
of mankind." But let us cast a pall over this act, 
this moral murder, perpetrated by the now degraded 
orator, degraded philosopher, the now most degraded 
of men. 

Elizabeth died in 1601 ; and before the arrival 
of James, in England, Bacon wrote him a pedantic 
letter, probably to gratify the taste of the pedant 
king; but he did not forget in it, "his late dear 
sovereign ]Mistress — a princess happy in all things, 
but most happy — in such a successor." 

Bacon solicited the honor of knighthood, a dis- 
tinction much lavished at this period. At the King's 
coronation, he knelt down in company with above 
three hundred gentlemen ; but " he rose Sir Fran- 
cis." He sought the hand of a rich alderman's 
daughter. Miss Barnham, who consented to become 
Lady Bacon. 

The Earl of Southampton, Shakspeare's generous 
patron and friend, who had been convicted of high 
treason in the late reign, now received the King's 
pardon. This called to all men's minds the fate of 
the unhappy Earl of Essex, and of his odiously un- 
grateful accuser ; the latter unadvisedly published 
the Sir Francis Bacon, his Apologie in certaine 
imputations concerning the late Earle of Essex ; a 
defence which, in the estimation of one of his bio- 
graphers, Lord Campbell, has injured him more with 
posterity than all the attacks of his enemies. 

In the new Parliament, he represented the borough 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 15 

of Ipswich ; he spoke frequently, and obtained the 
good graces of the King by the support he gave 
to James's favorite plan of a union of England and 
Scotland; a measure by no means palatable to the 
King's new subjects. 

The object of all his hopes, the price, perhaps, 
of his conduct to Essex, seemed in 1606 to be within 
his reach ; but he was once more to be disappointed. 
His old enemy. Sir Edward Coke, prevented the 
vacancy. The following year, however, after long 
and humiliating solicitation, he attained the office to 
which he had so long aspired, and was appointed 
Solicitor-General to the Crown. 

Official advancement was now the object nearest 
his heart, and he longed to be Attorney-General.^ 

In 1613, by a master stroke of policy, he created 
a vacancy for himself as Attorney-General, and man- 
aged at the same time to disserve his old enemy, 
Coke, by getting him preferred in rank, but at the 
expense of considerable pecuniary loss. 

After his new appointment, he was reelected to 
his seat in the House of Commons; he had gained 

1 The Attorney-General is the public prosecutor on behalf of the 
Crown, where the state is actually and not nominally the prose- 
cutor. He pleads also as a barrister in private causes, provided 
they are not against the government. As he receives a fee for 
every case in which the government is concerned, his emoluments 
are considerable ; but he has no salary. His official position 
secures to him the best practice at the bar. The salary was, in 
Bacon's time, but 8U. 6s. 8cL per annum; but the situation yielded 
him six thousand pounds yearly. 



16 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

so much popularity there, that the House admitted 
him, althougli it resolved to exclude future Attor- 
neys-General ; a resolution rescinded by later Par- 
liaments. 

The Attorney-General, as may be supposed, did 
not lack zeal in his master's service and for his 
master's prerogative. One case, in particular, was 
atrocious. An aged clergyman, named Peacham, 
was prosecuted for high treason for a sermon which 
he had neither preached nor published ; the unfortu- 
nate old man was apprehended, put to the torture 
in presence of the Attorney-General, and as the latter 
himself tells us, was examined "before torture, be- 
tween torture, and after torture," although Bacon 
must have been fully aware that the laws of Eng- 
land did not sanction torture to extort confession. 
Bacon tampered with the judges, and obtained a 
conviction ; but the government durst not carry the 
sentence into execution. Peacham languished in 
prison till the ensuing year, when Providence res- 
cued him from the hands of human justice. 

In 1616, Bacon was offered the formal promise 
of the Chancellorship, or an actual appointment as 
Privy Councillor ; he was too prudent not to prefer 
an appointment to a promise, and he was accord- 
ingly nominated to the functions of member of the 
Privy Council. His present leisure enabled him to 
prosecute vigorously his Novum Organum, but he 
turned aside to occupy himself with a proposition 
for the amendment of the laws of England, on which 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 17 

Lord Campbell, assuredly the most competent of 
judges, passes a high encomium. 

At length, in 1617, Sir Francis Bacon attained 
the end of the ambition of his life, he became Lord 
Keeper of the Seals, with the functions, though not 
the title, of Lord High Chancellor of England. His 
promotion to this dignity gave general satisfaction ; 
his own university, Cambridge, congratulated him ; 
Oxford imitated the example ; the world expected 
a perfect judge, formed from his own model in his 
Essay of Judicature. He took his seat in the Court 
of Chancery with the utmost pomp and parade. 

The Lord Keeper now endeavored to "feed fat 
the ancient grudge" he bore Coke. He deprived 
him of the office of Chief Justice, and erased his 
name from the list of privy councillors. Coke im- 
agined a plan of raising his falling fortunes; he 
projected a marriage between his daughter by his 
second wife, a very rich heiress, and Sir John Vil- 
liers, the brother of Buckingham, the King's favorite. 
Bacon was alarmed, wrote to the King, and used 
expressions of disparagement towards the favorite, 
his new patron, to whom he was indebted for the 
Seals he held. The King and his minion were 
equally indignant ; and they did not conceal from 
him their resentment. On the return of the court. 
Bacon hastened to the residence of Buckingham ; 
being denied admittance, he waited two whole days 
in the ante-chamber with the Great Seal of England 
in his hand. When at length he obtained access, 

2 



18 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

the Lord Keeper threw himself and the Great Seal 
on the ground, kissed the favorite's feet, and vowed 
never to rise till he was forgiven ! It must after 
this have been difficult indeed for him to rise aorain 
in the world's esteem or his own. 

Bacon was made to purchase at a dear price his 
reinstatement in the good graces of Buckingham. 
The favorite constantly wrote to the judge in behalf 
of one of the parties, and in the end, says Lord 
Campbell, intimated that he was to dictate the de- 
cree. !N'or did Bacon once remonstrate against this 
unwarrantable interference on the part of the man 
to whom he had himself recommended "by no means 
to interpose himself, either by word or letter in any 
cause depending on any court of justice. " The Lord 
Keeper received soon after, in 1618, the reward of 
his ''many faithful services" by the higher title of 
Lord High Chancellor of England, and by the peer- 
age with the name of Baron of Verulam. 

The new ^Minister of Justice lent himself with his 
wonted complaisance to a most outrageous act of 
injustice, which Macaulay stigmatizes as a " das- 
tardly murder," that of the execution of Sir Walter 
Raleigh, under a sentence pronounced sixteen years 
before; Sir Walter having been in the interval in- 
vested with the high command of Admiral of the 
fleet. Such an act it was the imperative duty of 
the first magistrate of the realm not to promote, but 
to resist to the full extent of his power; and the 
Chancellor alone could issue the warrant for the 
execution ! 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 19 

In 1620, he published what is usually considered 
his greatest work, his Novum Orgawum (New In- 
strument or Method), which forms the second part 
of the Instauratio Magna (Great Restoration of the 
Sciences). This work had occupied Bacon's leisure 
for nearly thirty years. Such was the care he be- 
stowed on it, that Rawley, his chaplain and biogra- 
pher, states that he had seen about twelve autograph 
copies of it, corrected and improved until it assumed 
the shape in which it appeared. Previous to the 
publication of the Novum Organum, says the illus- 
trious Sir John Herschel, "natural philosophy, in 
any legitimate and extensive sense of the word, could 
hardly be said to exist." ^ 

It cannot be expected that a work destined com- 
pletely to change the state of science, we had almost 
said of nature, should not be assailed by that preju- 
dice which is ever ready to raise its loud but unmean- 
ing voice against whatever is new, how great or good 
soever it may be. Bacon's doctrine was accused of 
being calculated to produce " dangerous revolutions," 
to "subvert governments and the authority of re- 
ligion." Some called on the present age and pos- 
terity to rise high in their resentment against "the 
Bacon-faced generation," for so were the experiment- 
alists termed. The old cry of irreligion, nay, even 
of atheism, was raised against the man who had 
said : " I would rather believe all the fables in the 
Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that 

1 Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy. 



20 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 

this universal frame is without a mind." ^ But Bacon 
had to encounter the prejudices even of the learned. 
Cuffe, the Earl of Essex's secretary, a man celebrated 
for his attainments, said of the Instauratio Magna, 
" a fool could not have written such a book, and a 
wise man would not." King James said, it was 
"like the peace of God, that surpasseth all under- 
standing." And even Harvey, the discoverer of the 
circulation of the blood, said to Aubrey : " Bacon is 
no great philosopher; he writes philosophy like a 
Lord Chancellor." Rawley, his secretary and his 
biographer, laments, some years after his friend's 
death, that " his fame is greater and sounds louder 
in foreign parts abroad than at home in his own 
nation ; thereby verifying that divine sentence : A 
prophet is not without honor, save in his own coun- 
try and in his own house." Bacon was for some 
time without honor " in his own country and in his 
own house." But truth on this, as on all other 
occasions, triumphs in the end. Bacon's assailants 
are forgotten ; Bacon will be remembered with grati- 
tude and veneration forever. 

He was again, in 1621, promoted in the peerage 
to be Viscount Saint-Albans ; his patent particularly 
celebrating his "integrity in the administration of 
justice." 

In this same year the Parliament assembled. The 
House of Commons first voted the subsidies de- 
manded by the Crown, and next proceeded, as was 

1 Essay xvi. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 21 

usual in those times, to the redress of grievances. 
A committee of the House was appointed to inquire 
into "the abuses of Courts of Justice." A report 
of this committee charged the Lord Chancellor with 
corruption, and specified two cases ; in the first of 
which Aubrey, a suitor in his court, stated that he 
had presented the Lord Chancellor with a hundred 
pounds; and Egerton, another suitor in his court, 
with four hundred pounds in addition to a former 
piece of plate of the value of fifty pounds ; in both 
cases decisions had been given against the parties 
whose presents had been received. (Lord Campbell 
asserts that in the case of Egerton both parties had 
made the Chancellor presents.)^ His enemies, it is 
said, estimated his illicit gains at a hundred thou- 
sand pounds ; a statement which, it is more than 
probable, is greatly exaggerated.^ " I never had," 
said Bacon in his defence, " bribe or reward in my 
eye or thought when I pronounced sentence or 
order." This is an acknowledgment of the fact, 
and perhaps an aggravation of the offence. He 

1 Decisions being given against the parties is no proof of un- 
corruptness ; it is always the party who loses his suit that com- 
plains ; the gainer receives the price of his bribe, and is silent. 

2 The exactions of his servants appear to have been very great ; 
their indulgence in every kind of extravagance, and the lavish 
proCuseness of his own expenses, were the principal causes of his 
ruin. Mallet relates that one day, during the investigation into 
his conduct, the Chancellor passed through a room where several 
of his servants were sitting ; as they arose from tlieir seats to greet 
him, "Sit down, my masters," exclaimed he, " your rise hath been 
my fall." 



22 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 

then addressed ^' an humble submission " to the 
House, a kind of general admission, in which he 
invoked as a plea of excuse vitia temporis. 

How widely different from this is his own lan- 
guage ! It is fair justice to appeal from the judge 
to the tribunal of the philosopher and moralist ; it 
is appealing from Philip drunk to Philip sober; 
unhappily it is likewise 

to have the engineer 
Hoist with his own petar. 

He says, in his Essay of Great Place : " For cor- 
ruption : do not only bind thine own hands, or thy 
servant's hands from taking, but bind the hands of 
suitors from offering. For integrity used doth the 
one ; but integrity professed, and with a manifest 
detestation of bribery, doth the other; and avoid 
not only the fault, but the suspicion." ^ He says 
again, in the same Essay: "Set it down to thyself, 
as well to create good precedents as to follow 
them." 

But the allegation that it was a custom of the 
times requires examination. It was a custom of 
the times in reality to make presents to superiors. 
Queen Elizabeth received them as New Year's gifts 
from functionaries of all ranks, from her prime min- 
ister down to Charles Smith, the dust-man (see note 
1, page 7), and this custom probably continued under 
her successor, and may have been applied to other 
high functionaries, but it does not appear to have 

1 Essay xi. 



NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 23 

been in legitimate use in the courts of judicature. 
Coke, himself Chief Justice, was Bacon's principal 
accuser; and, although an enemy, he has been said 
to have conducted himself with moderation and pro- 
priety on this occasion only. Lord Campbell, Chief 
Justice of the Court of Queen's Bench, and author 
of the Lives of the Chancellors and Chief Justices of 
England^ repels the plea, as inadmissible. It cannot 
be denied that if Bacon extended the practice to the 
courts of justice, he has heaped coals of fire on 
his head; for applied to his own case personally it 
would be sufficiently odious ; but what odium would 
not that man deserve who should systematize, nay, 
legitimize a practice that must inevitably poison the 
stream of justice at its fountain-head ! What execra- 
tion could be too great, if that man were the most 
intelligent, the wisest of his century, one of the most 
dignified in rank in the land, clad in spotless ermine, 
the emblem of purity, in short, the Minister of Justice ! 
The Lords resolved that Bacon should be called 
upon to put in a particular answer to each of the 
special charges preferred against him. The formal 
articles with proofs in support were communicated 
to him. The House received the "confession and 
humble submission of me, the Lord Chancellor." 
In this document, Bacon acknowledges himself to 
be guilty of corruption ; and in reply to each special 
charge admits in every instance the receipt of money 
or valuable things from the suitors in his court ; but 
alleging in some cases that it was after judgment, 



24 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 

or as New Year's gifts, a custom of the times, or for 
prior services. A committee of nine temporal and 
three spiritual lords was appointed to ascertain 
whether it was he who had subscribed this docu- 
ment. The committee repaired to his residence, 
were received in the hall where he had been accus- 
tomed to sit as judge, and merely asked him if the 
signature affixed to the paper they exhibited to him 
was his. He passionately exclaimed: "My lords, 
it is my act, my hand, my heart. I beseech your 
lordships to be merciful to a broken reed." The 
committee withdrew, overwhelmed with grief at the 
sight of such greatness so fallen. 

Four commissioners dispatched by the King de- 
manded the Great Seal of the Chancellor, confined 
to his bed by sickness and sorrow and want of sus- 
tenance; for he refused to take any food. He hid 
his face in his hand, and delivered up that Great 
Seal for the attainment of which he "had sullied 
his integrity, had resigned his independence, had 
violated the most sacred obligations of friendship 
and gratitude, had flattered the worthless, had per- 
secuted the innocent, had tampered with judges, 
had tortured prisoners, had plundered suitors, had 
wasted on paltry intrigues all the powers of the 
most exquisitely constructed intellect that has ever 
been bestowed on any of the children of men." ^ 

All this he did to be Lord High Chancellor of 
England ; and, had he not been the unworthy min- 

1 Macaulay's Essays. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 25 

ister of James, he might have been, to use the 
beautiful language of Hallam, "the high-priest of 
nature." 

On the 3d of May, he was unanimously declared 
to be guilty, and he was sentenced to a fine of forty 
thousand pounds, to be imprisoned in the Tower 
during the King's pleasure, to be incapable of hold- 
ing any public office, and of sitting in Parliament 
or of coming within the verge of the court. ^ Such 
was the sentence pronounced on the man whom 
three months before the King delighted to honor for 
" his integrity in the administration of justice." 

The fatal verdict affected his health so materially 
that the judgment could not receive immediate exe- 
cution; he could not be conveyed to the Tower 
until the 31st of May; the following day he was 
liberated. He repaired to the house of Sir John 
Vaughan, who held a situation in the prince's house- 
hold.2 He wished to retire to his own residence at 
York House; but this was refused. He was or- 
dered to proceed to his seat at Gorhambury, whence 
he was not to remove, and where he remained, though 
very reluctantly, till the ensuing spring. 

The heavy fine was remitted. But as he had 

1 He was not, as has been erroneously supposed, stripped of his 
titles of nobility ; this was proposed ; but it was negatived by the 
majority formed by means of the bishops, 

2 The Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles the First, was before 
he ascended the throne the patron of Bacon, who said of him in 
his will, '* my most gracious sovereign, who ever when he was prince 
was my patron." 



26 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

lived in great pomp, he had economized naught from 
his legitimate or ill-gotten gains. As he was now 
insolvent, a pension of twelve hundred pounds a year 
was bestowed on him ; from his estate and other 
revenues he derived thirteen hundred pounds per 
annum more. On the l/th of October, his remain- 
ing penalties were remitted. It cannot but strike 
the reader as a most remarkable circumstance that, 
^vithin eighteen months of the condemnation, all the 
penalties were successively remitted. Would this 
induce the belief that he was but the scape-goat of 
the court, that the condemnation was purely polit- 
ical ? It is, we believe, to be explained ostensibly 
by the advanced age of Bacon, but really by the 
circumstance that the King's favorite, Buckingham, 
was an accomplice. 

Bacon discovered, alas ! when it was too late, that 
the talent God had given him he had " misspent in 
things for which he was least fit ; " or as Thomson 
has beautifully expressed it : ^ — 

Hapless in his choice, 
Unfit to stand the civil storm of state, 
And through the smooth barbarity of courts. 
With firm, but pliant virtue, forward still 
To urge his course ; him for the studious shade 
Kind Nature form'd ; deep, comprehensive, clear, 
Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul, 
Plato, the Stagyrite and Tully join'd. 
The great deliverer he ! 

It is gratifying to turn from the melancholy scenes 
exhibited by the political life of Bacon, to behold him 

1 The Seasons. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 27 

in his study in the deep search of truth ; no contrast 
is more striking than that between the chancellor 
and the philosopher, or, as Macaulay has well termed 
it, ^' Bacon seeking for truth, and Bacon seeking for 
the Seals — Bacon in speculation, and Bacon in ac- 
tion." From amidst clouds and darkness we emerge 
into the full blaze and splendor of midday light. 

We now find Bacon wholly devoting himself to 
the pursuits for which nature adapted him, and from 
which no extent of occupation could entirely detach 
him. The author redeemed the man; in the phi- 
losopher and the poet there was no weakness, no 
corruption. 

Nothing is here for tears ; nothing to wail 

Or knock the breast ; no weakness, no contempt, 

Dispraise or blame, nothing bnt well and fair. 

Here the writer yielded not to vitia temporis ; 
but combated them with might and main, with heart 
and soul. 

In 1623, he published the Life of Henrij VI L 
In a letter addressed to the Queen of Bohemia with 
a copy, he says pathetically : "'Time was I had 
honor without leisure, and now I have leisure with- 
out honor." But his honor without leisure had 
precipitated him into " bottomless perdition ; " his 
leisure without honor retrieved his name, and raised 
him again to an unattainable height. 

In the following year, he printed his Latin trans- 
lation of the Advancement of Learning, under the 
title of De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum, 



28 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

This was not, however, a mere translation ; for 
he made in it omissions and alterations ; and ap- 
pears to have added about one third new matter; 
in short, he remodelled it. His work, replete with 
poetry and beautiful imagery, was received with 
applause throughout Europe. It was reprinted in 
France in 1624, one year after its appearance in 
England. It was immediately translated into French 
and Italian, and was published in Holland, the 
great book-mart of that time, in 1645, 1650, and 
1662. 

In 1624, he solicited of the King a remission of 
the sentence, to the end, says he, " that blot of igno- 
miny may be removed from me and from my mem- 
ory with posterity." The King granted him a 
full pardon. But he never more took his seat in 
the House of Lords. When the new Parliament 
met, after the accession of Charles the First, age, 
infirmity, and tardy wisdom had extinguished the 
ambition of Baron Verulam, Viscount St. Albans. 
When the writ of summons to the Parliament reached 
him, he exclaimed : " I have done with such vani- 
ties ! " 

But the philosopher pursued his labor of love. 
He published new editions of his writings, and trans- 
lated them into Latin, from the mistaken notion that 
in that language alone could they be rescued from 
oblivion. His crabbed latinity is now read but by 
few, or even may be said to be nearly forgotten ; 
while his noble, majestic English is read over the 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 29 

whole British empire, on which the sun never sets, 
is studied and admired throughout the old world 
and the new, and it will be so by generations still 
unborn; it will descend to posterity in company 
with his contemporary, Shakspeare (whose name 
he never mentions), and will endure as long as the 
great and glorious language itself ; indeed, as he fore- 
told of his Essays, it ^' will live as long as books last." 

In the translation of liis works into Latin, he was 
assisted by Rawley, his future biographer, and his 
two friends, Ben Jonson, the poet, and Hobbes, the 
philosopher. 

He wrote for his " own recreation," amongst very 
serious studies, a Collection of Apophthegms, New 
and Old, said to have been dictated in one rainy 
day, but probably the result of several " rainy days." 
This contains many excellent jocular anecdotes, and 
has been, perhaps, with too much indulgence, pro- 
nounced by Macaulay to be the best jest-book in the 
world. 

He commenced a Digest of the Laws of England, 
but he soon discontinued it, because it was " a work 
of assistance, and that which he could not master by 
his own forces and pen." James the First had not 
sufficient elevation of mind to afford him the means 
of securing the assistance he required. 

He wrote his will with his own hand on the 19th 
of December, 1625. He directs that he shall be 
interred in St. Michael's Church, near St. Albans: 
" There was my mother buried, and it is the parish 



30 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

church of my mansion-house at Gorhambury 

For my name and memory, I leave it to men's 
charitable speeches, and to foreign nations, and the 
next ages." This supreme act of filial piety towards 
his gifted mother is affecting. Let no "uncharita- 
ble " word be uttered over his last solemn behest ; 
foreign nations and all ages will not refuse a tribute 
of homage to his genius ! Gassendi presents an 
analysis of his labors, and pays a tribute of admira- 
tion to their author ; Descartes has mentioned him 
with encomium ; Malebranche quotes him as an au- 
thority ; Puffendorff expressed admiration of him ; 
the University of Oxford presented to him, after his 
fall, an address, in which he is termed "a mighty 
Hercules, who had by his own hand greatly ad- 
vanced those pillars in the learned world which by 
the rest of the woi-ld were supposed immovable." 
Leibnitz ascribed to him the re\dval of true philo- 
sophy ; Newton had studied him so closely that he 
adopted even his phraseology ; Voltaire and D'x\lem- 
bert have rendered him popular in France. The 
modern philosophers of all Europe regard him rever- 
entially as the father of experimental philosophy. 

He attempted at this late period of his life a met- 
rical translation into English of the Psalms of 
David ; although his prose is full of poetry, his verse 
has but little of the divine art. 

He again declined to take his seat as a peer in 
Charles's second Parliament ; but the last stage of 
his life displayed more dignity and real greatness 



NOTICE OF PEANCIS BACON. 31 

than the " prido, pomp, and circumstance " of his 
high offices and honors. The public of England 
and of "foreign nations" forgot the necessity of 
" charitable speeches " and anticipated '^ the next 
ages." The most distinguished foreigners repaired 
to Gray's Inn to pay their respects to him. The 
Marquis d'Effiat, who brought over to England the 
Princess Henrietta Maria, the wife of Charles the 
First, went to see him. Bacon, confined to his bed, 
but unwilling to decline the visit, received him with 
the curtains drawn. " You resemble the angels," 
said the French minister to him, " we hear those 
beings continually talked of; we believe them supe- 
rior to mankind ; and we never have the consolation 
to see them." 

But in ill health and infirmity he continued his 
studies and experiments ; as it occurred to him that 
snow might preserve animal substances from putre- 
faction as well as salt, he tried the experiment, and 
stuffed a fowl with snow with his own hands. 
" The great apostle of experimental philosophy was 
destined to become its martyr ; " he took cold. From 
his bed he dictated a letter to the Earl of Arundel, 
to whose house he had been conveyed. " I was 
likely to have had the fortune of Caius Plinius the 
Elder, who lost his life by trying an experiment 
about the burning of the Mount Vesuvius. For I 
was also desirous to try an experiment or two touch- 
ing the conservation and induration of bodies. As 
for the experiment itself, it succeeded excellently 



32 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

well." He had, indeed, the fortune of Pliny the 
Elder; for he never recovered from the effects of 
his cold, which brought on fever and a complaint of 
the chest ; and he expired on the 9th of xApril, 1626, 
in the sixty-sixth year of his age. Thus died, a vic- 
tim to his devotion to science, Francis Bacon, whose 
noble death is an expiation of the errors of his life, 
and who was, as has been justly observed, notwith- 
standing all his faults, one of the greatest ornaments 
and benefactors of the human race. 

No account has been preserved of his funeral ; 
but probably it was private. Sir Thomas Meautys, 
his faithful secretary, erected at his own expense a 
monument to Bacon's memory. Bacon is represented 
sitting, reclining on his hand, and absorbed in medi- 
tation. The effigy bears the inscription : sic sedebat. 

The singular fact ought not to be omitted, that 
notwithstanding the immense sums that had been 
received by him, legitimately or otherwise, he died 
insolvent. The fault of his life had been that he 
never adapted his expenses to his income ; perhaps 
even he never calculated them. To what irretrieva- 
ble ruin did not this lead him? To disgrace and 
dishonor, in the midst of his career ; to insolvency 
at its end. His love of worldly grandeur was un- 
controllable, or at least uncontrolled. "The virtue 
of prosperity is temperance," says he himself; but 
this virtue he did not possess. His stately bark 
rode proudly over the waves, unmindful of the 
rocks ; on' one of these, alas ! it split and foundered. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 33 

Bacon wms very prepossessing in his person ; he 
was in stature above the middle size ; his forehead 
was broad and high, of an intellectual appearance ; 
his eye was lively and expressive ; and his counte- 
nance bore early the marks of deep thought. 

It miofht be mentioned here with instruction to 
the reader, that few men were more impressed than 
Bacon with the value of time, the most precious 
element of life. He assiduously employed the small- 
est portions of it ; considering justly that the days, 
the hours, nay minutes of existence require the great- 
est care at our hands ; the weeks, months, and years 
have been wisely said to take care of themselves. 
His chaplain, Rawley, remarks : " Nullum momentum 
aut temporis segmentum perire et intercidere passus 
est,'' he suffered no moment nor fragment of time to 
pass away unprofitably. It is this circumstance that 
explains to us the great things he accomplished even 
in the most busy part of his life. 

The whole of Bacon's biography has been admira- 
bly recapitulated by Lord Campbell ^ in the following 
paragraph : — ■ 

*'We have seen him taught his alphabet by his mother; 
patted on the head by Queen Ehzabeth; mocking the wor- 
shippers of Aristotle at Cambridge; catching the first glimpses 
of his great discoveries, and yet uncertain whether the light 
was from heaven; associating with the learned and the gay 
at the court of France; devoting himself to Bracton^ and 

1 Lives of the Lord Chancellors and Keepers of the Great Seal of 
England. 

2 Bracton is one of the earliest writers of English law. He 

3 



34 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 

the Year Books in Gray's Inn; throwing aoide the musty 
folios of the law to write a moral Essay, to make an experi- 
ment in natural philosophy, or to detect the fallacies w^hicli 
had hitherto obstructed the progress of useful truth ; contented 
for a time with taking ''all knowledge for his province;" 
roused from these speculations hy the stings of vulgar ambi- 
tion; plying all the arts of flattery to gain official advance- 
ment by royal and courtly favor ; entering the House of 
Commons, and displaying powers of oratory of which he had 
been unconscious ; being seduced by the love of popular ap- 
plause, for a brief space becoming a patriot ; making amends, 
by defending all the worst excesses of prerogative ; publishing 
to the world lucubrations on morals, which show the nicest 
perception of what is honorable and beautiful as well as pru- 
dent, in the conduct of life ; yet the son of a Lord Keeper, the 
nephew of the prime minister, a Queen's counsel, with the first 
practice at the bar, arrested for debt, and languishing in a 
spunging-house ; tired with vain solicitations to his own kin- 
dred for promotion, joining the party of their opponent, and 
after experiencing the most generous kindness from the young 
and chivalrous head of it, assisting to bring him to the scaf- 
fold, and to blacken his memory ; seeking, by a mercenary 
marriage to repair his broken fortunes ; on the accession of a 
new sovereign oflfering up the most servile adulation to a 
pedant whom he utterly despised ; infinitely gratified by being 
permitted to kneel down, with three hundred others, to receive 
the honor of knighthood; truckling to a worthless favorite 
with the most slavish subserviency that he might be appointed 
a law-officer of the Crown ; then giving the most admirable 
advice for the compilation and emendation of the laws of 
England, and helping to inflict torture on a poor parson whom 
he wished to hang as a traitor for writing an unpublished and 



flourished in the thirteenth century. The title of his work is De 
Lccjihus et Consuetudinibus Anglice, first printed in 1569. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 35 

unpreached sermon; attracting the notice of all Europe by 
his philosophical works, which established a new era in tlie 
mode of investigating the phenomena both of matter and 
mind ; basely intriguing m the meanwhile for further promo- 
tion, and writing secret letters to his sovereign to disparage his 
rivals ; riding proudly between the Lord High Treasurer and 
Lord Privy Seal, preceded by his mace-bearer and purse- 
bearer, and followed by a long line of nobles and judges, to 
be installed in the office of Lord High Chancellor ; by and by, 
settling with his servants the account of the bribes they had 
received for him; a little embarrassed by being obliged, out 
of decency, the case being so clear, to decide against the party 
whose money he had pocketed, but stitling the misgivings of 
conscience by the splendor and flattery which he now com- 
manded ; struck to the earth by the discovery of his comip- 
tion ; taking to his bed, and refusing sustenance ; confessing 
the truth of the charges brought against him, and abjectly 
imploring mercy; nobly rallying from his disgrace, and en- 
gaging in new literary undertakings, which have added to the 
splendor of his name; still exhibiting a touch of his ancient 
vanity, and, in the midst of pecuniary embarrassment, refusing 
to ' be stripijed of his feathers ; ' i inspired, nevertheless, with 
all his youthful zeal for science, in conducting his last experi- 
ment of 'stuffing a fowl with snow to preserve it,^ which 
succeeded ' excellently \vell,' but brought him to his grave ; 
and, as the closing act of a life so checkered, making his will, 
whereby, conscious of the shame he had incurred among his 
contemporaries, but impressed with a swelling conviction of 
what he had achieved for mankind, he bequeathed his ' name 
and memory to men's charitable speeches, to foreign nations, 
and the next ages.' " 

After this brilliant recapitulation of the principal 
facts of Bacon's eventful hie, there remains the 

1 The woods on his estate of Gorhambury. 



36 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

difficult task of examining his character as a writer 
and philosopher; and then of presenting some ob- 
servations on his principal works. As these sub- 
jects have occupied the attention of the master minds 
and most elegant writers of England, we shall un- 
hesitatingly present the reader with the opinions 
of these, the most competent judges in each special 
department. 

But first, let the philosopher speak for himself. 

The end and aim of the writings of Bacou are 
best described by himself, as these descriptions may 
be gleaned fi*om his various works. He taught, to 
use his own language, the means, not of the " ampli- 
fication of the power of one man over his country, 
nor of the amplification of the power of that coun- 
try over other nations ; but the amplification of the 
power and kingdom of mankind over the world." ^ 
" A restitution of man to the sovereignty of nature." ^ 
^^ The enlarging the bounds of human empire to the 
effecting of all things possible."^ From the enlarge- 
ment of reason, he did not separate the grow^th of 
virtue ; for lie thought that " truth and goodness 
were one, difi'ering but as the seal and the print, 
for truth prints goodness."* 

The art which Bacon taught, has been well said 
to be ^'the art of inventing arts." 

The great qualities of his mind, as they are exhi- 
bited in his works, have been well portrayed by the 

1 Of the Interpretation of Nature. - Ibid. 

3 New Atlantis. * Advancement of Learning. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 37 

pen of Sir James Mackintosh. We subjoin the 
opinion of this elegant v^riter in his own words : 

''It is easy to describe his traiiscendaut merit in general 
terms of commendation : for some of his great quaUties lie- 
on the surface of his writings. But that in which he most 
excelled all other men, was in the range and compass of his 
intellectual view — the power of contemplating many and 
distant objects together, without indistinctness or confusion — 
which he himself has called the discursive or comprehensive 
understanding. This wide-ranging intellect was illuminated 
by the brightest Fancy that ever contented itself with the 
office of only ministering to Reason : and from this singular 
relation of the two grand faculties of man, it has resulted, 
that his philosophy, though illustrated still more than adorned 
by the utmost splendor of imagery, continues still subject to 
the undivided supremacy of intellect. In the midst of all 
the prodigality of an imagination which, had it been inde- 
pendent, would have been poetical, his opinions remained 
severely rational. 

''It is not so easy to conceive, or at least to describe, other 
equally essential elements of his greatness, and conditions of 
his success. He is probably a single instance of a mind 
which, in philosophizing, alvA^ays reaches the point of eleva- 
tion whence the whole prospect is commanded, w^ithout ever 
rising to such a distance as to lose a distinct perception of 
every part of it." ^ 

Mr. Macaulay speaks of the following peculiarity 
of Bacon's understanding : ^ — 

" With great minuteness of observation he had an ampli- 
tude of comprehension such as has never yet been vouch- 
safed to any other human being. The small fine mind of 
La Bruyere had not a more delicate tact than the large iutel- 

1 Edinburgh Eeview. 2 Essays. 



38 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 

lect of Bacon. The '^ Essays" contain abundant proofs that 
no nice feature of character, no peculiarity in the ordering 
of a house, a garden, or a court-masque, could escape the 
notice of one whose mind was capable of taking in the whole 
world of knowledge. His understanding resembled the tent 
which the fairy Paribanou gave to prince Ahmed. Fold it, 
and it seemed a toy for the hand of the lady. Spread it, 
and the armies of powerful sultans might repose beneath its 
shade. 

'' In keenness of observation he has been equalled, though, 
perhaps, never surpassed. But the largeness of his mind 
M^as all his own. The glance with which he surveyed the 
intellectual universe, resembled that which the archangel, 
from the golden threshold of heaven, darted down into the 
new creation. 

*' Koimd he surveyed and well might, where he stood 
So high above the circling canopy 
Of night's extended shade — from eastern point 
Of Libra, to the fleecy star which bears 
Andromeda far off Atlantic seas 
Beyond the horizon." 

Bacon's philosophy is, to use an expression of his 
own, " the servant and interpreter of nature ; " he 
cultivated it in the leisure left him by the assiduous 
study and practice of the law and by the willing 
duties of a courtier; it was rather the recreation 
than the business of his life; "my business," said 
he, " found rest in my contemplations ; " but his very 
recreations rendered him, according to Leibnitz, the 
father of experimental philosophy, and, according 
to all, the originator of all its results, of all later 
discoveries in chemistry and the arts, in short, of 
all modern science and its applications. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 39 

Mr. Macaulay is of opinion that the two leading 
principles of his philosophy are iitUlty and progress ; 
that the ethics of his inductive method are to do 
good, to do more and more good, to mankind. 

Lord Campbell believes that a most perfect body of 
ethics might be made out from the writings of Bacon. 

The origin of his pliilosophy was the conviction 
with which he was impressed of the insufficiency of 
that of the ancients, or rather of that of Aristotle, 
which reigned with almost undisputed sway through- 
out Europe. He reverenced antiquity for its great 
works, its great men ; but not because of its ancient- 
ness; he deemed its decrees worthy of reverential 
consideration, but did not think they admitted of no 
appeal; he was not a bigot to antiquity or a con- 
temner of modern times. He happily combated 
that undue and blind submission to the authority of 
ancient times for the mere reason that they are 
older than our own, alleging truly that '^ antiquitas 
SECULi JUTENTUS MUNDi, that our times are the 
ancient times, when the world is ancient, and not 
those which we account ancient, ordine retrogradoy 
by a computation backward from ourselves." ^ 

Throwing off, then, all allegiance to antiquity, he 
appealed directly from Aristotle to nature, from 
reasoning to experiment. 

But let us invoke the testimony of an eminent 
philosopher, Sir John Herschel: — 

1 Advancement of Learnincf. 



40 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

''B}' the discoveries of Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo, 
the errors of the Aristotelian philost»phy were effectually over- 
turned on a plain appeal to the facts of nature ; hut it re- 
mained to show, on broad and general principles, how and 
why Aristotle was in the wrong ; to set in evidence the pecu- 
liar weakness of his method of philosophizing, and to substi- 
tute in its place a stronger and better. This important task 
was executed by Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, who will 
theref(M-e justly be looked upon in all future ages as the great 
reformer of philosophy, though his own actual contributions 
to the stock of physical truths were small, and his ideas of 
particular points strongly tinctured with mistakes and errors, 
which were the fault rather of the general want of physical 
information of the age than of any narrowness of view on 
his own part ; of this he was fully aware. It has been at- 
tempted by some to lessen the merit of this great achieve- 
ment, by showing that the inductive method had been 
practised in many instances, both ancient and modern, by the 
mere instinct of mankind; but it is not the introduction of in- 
ductive reasoning, as a new and hitherto untried process, which 
characterizes the Baconian philosophy, but his keen percep- 
tion, and his broad and sjjirit-stirring, almost enthusiastic, 
announcement of its paramount importance, as the alpha and 
omega of science, as the grand and only chain for the linking 
together of physical truths, and the eventual key to every dis- 
covery and every application. Those who Avould deny him his 
just glory on such grounds would refuse to Jenner or to Howard 
their civic crowns, because a few farmers in a remote province 
had, time out of mind, been acquainted with vaccination, or 
philanthropists, in all ages, had occasionally visited the pris- 
oner in his dungeon." 

''It is to our immortal countryman Bacon," says he, again, 
" that we owe the broad announcement of this grand and 
fertile principle; and the development of the idea, that the 
whole of natural philosophy consists entirely of a series of 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 41 

inductive generalizations, commencing with tlie most circum- 
stantially stated particulars, and carried up to universal laws, 
or axioms, which comprehend in their statements every sub- 
ordinate degree of generality and of a corresponding series 
of inverted reasoning from generals to particulars, by which 
these axioms are traced hack into their remotest conse- 
quences, and all particular propositions deduced from them, 
as well those by whose immediate consideration we rose to 
their discovery, as those of which we had no previous knowl- 
edge. . . . 

'' It would seem that a union of two qualities almost oppo- 
site to each other — a going fortli of the thoughts in two 
directions, and a sudden transfer of ideas from a remote sta- 
tion in one to an equally distant one in the other — is required 
to start the first idea of applying science. Among the Greeks, 
this point was attained by Archimedes, but attained too late, 
on the eve of that great eclipse of science which was destined 
to continue for nearly eighteen centuries, till Galileo in Italy, 
and Bacon in England, at (mce dispelled the darkness; the 
one, by his inventions and discoveries ] the other, by the irre- 
sistible force of his arguments and eloquence." ^ 

His style is copious, comprehensive, and smooth ; 
it does not flow with the softness of the purling rill, 
but rather with the strength, fulness, and swelling of 
a majestic river, and the rude harmony of the moun- 
tain stream. His images are replete with poetry and 
thought ; they always illustrate his subject. Hallam 
is of opinion that the modern writer that comes near- 
est to him is Burke. '^ He had," said Addison, " the 
sound, distinct, comprehensive knowledge of Aris- 
totle, with all the beautiful lights, graces, and embel- 

1 Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy. 



42 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

lishments of Cicero. One does not know which to 
admire most in his writings, the strength of reason, 
force of style, or brightness of imagination."^ 

Bacon improved so much the melody, elegance, and 
force of English prose, that we may apply to him 
what was said of Augustus with regard to Rome : 
lateritiam invenit, marmoream reliqidt ; he found it 
brick, and he left it marble. Mr. Hallam's opinion 
differs somewhat from this ; it is as follows : — 

''The style of Bacon has an idiosyncrasy wliich we might 
expect from his genius. It can rarely indeed happen, and 
only in men of secondary talents, that the language they use 
is not, by its very choice and collocation, as well as its mean- 
ing, the representative of an individuality that distinguishes 
their turn of thought. Bacon is elaborate, sententious, often 
witty, often metaphorical ; nothing could be spared ; his anal- 
ogies are generally striking and novel ; his style is clear, pre- 
cise, forcible ; yet there is some degree of stiffness about it, 
and in mere language he is inferior to Ealeigh.'' ^ 

It is a most remarkable characteristic of Bacon, 
and one in which Burke resembled him, that his 
imagination grew stronger with his increasing years, 
and his style richer and softer. ^' The fruit came 
first," says Mr. ^lacaulay, '' and remained till the 
last ; tlie blossoms did not appear till late. In elo- 
quence, in sweetness and variety of expression, and 
in richness of illustration, his later writings are far 

1 Tattler, No. 267. 

2 Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the fifteenth, six- 
teenth, and seventeenth centuries. 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 43 

superior to those of his youth." His earliest Essays 
have as much truth and cogent reasoning as his 
latest; but these are far superior in grace and beauty. 
A most striking illustration of this is afforded by one 
of the last Essays, added a year before Bacon's death, 
that of Adversity (Essay V.), than which naught can 
be more graceful and beautiful. 

The account of Bacon's works will necessarily be 
very succinct, and, we fear, imperfect. We shall, 
however, for each of them, call in the aid of the 
most competent judges, whose award public opinion 
will not reverse. 

ESSAYS. 

Bacon published his Essays in 1597. They were, 
in the estimation of Mr. Hallam, the first in time 
and in excellence of English writings on moral pru- 
dence. Of the fifty-eight Essays, of which the work 
is now composed, ten only appeared in the first 
edition. But to these were added Religious Medi- 
tations, Places of Perswasion and Dlsswasion, Seene 
and alloived ; many of which were afterwards embod- 
ied in the Essays. These Essays were : I. Of Studie; 
2. Of Discourse ; 3. Of Ceremonies and Respects ; 4. 
Of Followers and Friends ; 5. Of Sutors ; 6. Of Ex- 
pence ; 7. Of Regiment of Health ; 8. Of Honor and 
Reputation; 9. Of Faction; 10. Of ]N'egociating. In 
the edition of 1612, " The Essaies of S"^ Francis Ba^ 
con Knight, the King's Atturny Generall," were 
increased to forty-one. 



44 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

The new Essays added are : I. Of Religion ; 2. Of 
Death ; 3. Of Goodnesse, and Goodnesse of Nature ; 
4. Of Cunning ; 5. Of Marriage and Single Life ; 6. Of 
Parents and Children ; 7. Of ^''obility ; 8. Of Great 
Place; 9. Of Empire; 10. Of Counsell ; 11. Of Dis- 
patch; 12. Of Love; 13. Of Friendship; 14. Of 
Atheism; 15. Of Superstition; 16. Of Wisedome 
for a Man's selfe; 20. Of seeming wise; 21. Of 
Riches ; 22. Of Ambition ; 23. Of Young Men and 
Age ; 24. Of Beauty ; 25. Of Deformity ; 26. Of Na- 
ture in Men ; 27. Of Custom and Education ; 28. 
Of Fortune ; 35. Of Praise ; 36. Of Judicature ; 37. 
of Vaine-Glory ; 38. Of Greatnesse of Kingdomes ; 
39. Of the Publique ; 40. Of Warre and Peace. 

These forty- one Essays were afterwards again aug- 
mented to fifty-eight, with the new title of The Es- 
saies or Covnsels, Civill and Morall ; they were 
likcAvise improved by corrections, additions, and illus- 
trations. By the peculiarity of Bacon, already no- 
ticed, the later Essays rise in beauty and interest. 

Bacon considered his Essays but as " the recreations 
of his other studies." He has entitled them, in the 
Latin translation, Sermones fideles, sive Interiora re- 
rum. The idea of them, as has been already men- 
tioned, Was suggested by those of Montaigne ; but 
there is but little resemblance between the two pro- 
ductions. Montaigne is natural, ingenuous, sportive. 
Bacon's " Essays or Counsels, civil and moral,^^ " the 
fragments of his conceits," as he styles them, are all 
study, art, and gravity ; but the reflections in them 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 45 

are true and profound. Montaigne confessedly 
painted himself, declared tliat he was the matter 
of his own book/ while with Bacon the man was 
merged in the author and the philosopher, who pro- 
pounded like Seneca, and somewhat in Seneca's style, 
the maxims of practical wisdom, that, to use Bacon's 
own language, '^come home to men's business and 
bosoms," and clothed them in a garb, new, elegant, 
and rich, hitherto unknown in England. But our 
author, if we may judge by the matter and even 
manner of his Essays, may have had in view, not 
so much IMontaigne's Essais as Seneca's Letters to 
LuciUus. The Essay of Death is obviously founded 
on Seneca's Epistles on this subject. That he was 
well acquainted with Seneca's Letters, is incontro- 
vertible. He alludes to them thus in the dedication 
to Prince Henry, in 1612 : " The word (Essays)," says 
he, " is late, but the thing is ancient ; for Seneca's 
Epistles to Lucilius, if you mark them well, are but 
Essays, that is, dispersed meditations, though con- 
veyed in tlie form of epistles." Bacon justly foretold 
of his Essays that they " would live as long as books 
last." 



1 Montaigne says, in his author's address to the reader : — 
" le veulx qu'oii m'y vcoye en ma fa<^on simple, naturellc ct ordi- 
naire, sans estudc et artifice ; car c'est moi que je peinds." He says 
again elsewhere : " le nay jias pliLS faict man livre, que mon livre 
m'a faict; livre consuhstantiel a son aucteur, d'une occupation 
propre, membre de ma vie, non d'une occiipation et fi.n tierce et 
cstrangiere, comme touts aultres livres." (Livre ii. ch. xviii.) 



46 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

The following is the opinion of Dugald Stewart, 
himself an eminent philosopher and elegant writer : 

''His Essays are the best known and most popular of all 
his works. It is also one of those where the superiority of 
his genius appears to the greatest advantage; the novelty 
and depth of his reflections often receiving a strong relief from 
triteness of the subject. It may be read from beginning to 
end in a few hours ; and yet, after the twentieth perusal, one 
seldom foils to remark in it something unobserved before. 
This, indeed, is a characteristic of all Bacon's writings, and 
only to be accounted for by the inexhaustible aliment they 
furnish to our own thoughts, and the sympathetic activity 
they impart to our torpid faculties." ^ 

The reader will, perhaps, be rather gratified than 
wearied with another appreciation of this valuable 
production of our young moralist of twenty-six. It 
is of no incompetent judge, — Mr. Hallam. 

" The transcendent strength of Bacon's mind is visible in 
the whole tenor of these Essays, unequal as they must be 
from the very nature of such compositions. They are deeper 
and more discriminating than any earlier, or almost any later 
work in the English language, full of recondite observation, 
long matured and carefully sifted. It is true that we might 
wish for more vivacity and ease; Bacon, who had much wit, 
had little gayety ; his Essays are consequently stiff and grave 
where the subject might have been touched with a lively 
hand ; thus it is in those on Gardens and on Building. The 
sentences have sometimes too apophthegmatic a form and 
want coherence ; the historical instances, though far less fre- 
quent than with Montaigne, have a little the look of pedantry 
to our eyes. But it is from this condensation, from this 

1 Introduction to the Encycloptedia. 



NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 47 

gravity, that the work derives its peculiar impressiveness. 
Few books are more quoted, and what is not always the case 
with such books, we may add that few are more generally 
read. In this respect they lead the van of our prose litera- 
ture ; for no gentleman is ashamed of owning that he has not 
read the Elizabethan writers; but it would be somewhat 
derogatory to a man of the slightest claim to polite letters, 
were he unacquainted with the Essays of Bacon. It is, 
indeed, little worth while to read this or any other book for 
reputation sake ; but very few in our language so well repay 
the pains, or afford more nourishment to the thoughts. They 
might be judiciously introduced, with a small number more, 
into a sound method of education, one that should make 
wisdom, rather than mere knowledge, its object, and might 
become a text-book of examination in our schools."^ 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 

The Advancement of Learnhig was published m 
1605. It has usually been considered that the whole 
of Bacon's philosophy is contained in this work, ex- 
cepting, however, the second book of the Novum Or- 
ganiim. Of the Advancement of Learning he made 
a Latin translation, under the title of De Dignitate 
et Aiigmentis Scientiarum, which, however, contains 
about one third of new matter and some slight inter- 
polations ; a few omissions have been remarked 
in it. 

The Advancement of Learning is, as it were, 
to use his own language, " a small globe of the 

1 Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the fifteenth, 
sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries. 



48 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 

intellectual world, as truly and faithfully as I could 
discover with a note and description of those facts 
which seem to me not constantly occupate or not 
well converted by the labor of man. In which, if 
I have in any point receded from that which is 
commonly received, it hath been with a purpose of 
proceeding in melins and not in aliud, a mind of 
amendment and proficience, and not of change and 
difference. For I could not be true and constant 
to the argument I handle, if I were not willing to 
go beyond others, but yet not more willing than to 
have others go beyond me." 

The Advancement of Learning is divided into 
two parts ; the former of which is intended to re- 
move prejudices against the search after truth, by 
pointing out the causes which obstruct it ; in the 
second, learning is divided into history, poetry, and 
philosophy, according to the faculties of the mind 
from which they emanate — memory, imagination, 
and reason. Our author states the deficiencies he 
observes in each. 

All the peculiar qualities of his style are fully 
developed in this noble monument of genius, one 
of the finest in English, or perhaps any other lan- 
guage ; it is full of deep thought, keen observation, 
rich imagery, Attic wit, and apt illustration. Dugald 
Stewart and Hallam have both expressed their just 
admiration of the short paragraph on poesy; but, 
with all due deference, we must consider that the 
beautiful passage on the dignity and excellency of 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 49 

knowledge is surpassed by none. Can aught excel 
the noble comparison of the ship ? The reader shall 
judge for himself. 

'^ If the invention of the ship was thought so noble, which 
carrieth riches and commodities from place to place, and conso- 
ciateth the most remote regions in participation of their fruits ; 
how much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships, 
pass through the vast seas of time, and mtike ages so distant 
to participate of the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, 
the one of the other ? " 



DE SAPIENTIA VETERUM. 

The Wisdom of the Ancients, or rather, De sapi- 
entia t^eterum (for it was written in Latin), is a short 
treatise on the mythology of the ancients, by which 
Bacon endeavors to discover and to show the physi- 
cal, moral, and political meanings it concealed. If 
the reader is not convinced that the ancients under- 
stood by these fables all that Bacon discovers in 
them, he must at least admit the probability of it, 
and be impressed with the penetration of the author 
and the variety and depth of his knowledge. 

INSTAURATIO MAGNA. 

The Instauratio Magna was published in 1620, 
while Bacon was still chancellor. 

In his dedication of it to James the First, in 1620, 
in which he says he has been engaged in it nearly 
thirty years, he pathetically remarks : " The reason 

4 



50 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

why I have published it now, specially being im- 
perfect, is, to speak plainly, because I number my 
days, and would have it saved." His country and 
the world participate in the opinion of the philoso- 
pher, and would have deemed its loss one of the 
greatest to mankind. 

Such was the care with which it was composed, 
that Bacon transcribed it twelve times with his own 
hand. 

It is divided into six parts. The first entitled 
Partitiones Scientiarum, or the divisions of knowl- 
edge possessed by mankind, in which the author 
has noted the deficiencies and imperfections of each. 
This he had already accomplished by his Advance- 
ment of Learning, 

Part 2 is the Novum Organum Scientiarum, or 
new method of studying the sciences, a name proba^ 
bly suggested by Aristotle's Organon (treatises on 
Logic). He intended it to be "the science of a 
better and more perfect use of reason in the inves- 
tigation of things and of the true end of understand- 
ing." This has been generally denominated the 
inductive method, i. e. the experimental method, 
from the j)rinciple of induction, or bringing together 
facts and drawing from them general principles or 
truths, by which the author proposes the advance- 
ment of all kinds of knowledge. In this consists 
preeminently the philosophy of Bacon. Not rea- 
soning upon conjecture on the laws and properties 
of nature, but, as Bacon quaintly terms it, "asking 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 51 

questions of nature," that is, making experiments, 
laboriously collecting facts first, and, after a suffi- 
cient number has been brought together, then form- 
ing systems or theories founded on them. 

But this work is rather the summary of a more 
extensive one he designed, the aphorisms of it being 
rather, according to Hallam, "the heads or theses 
of chapters." But some of these principles are of 
paramount importance. An instance may be afforded 
of this, extracted from the " Interpretation of N'ature, 
and Man's dominion over it." It is the very first sen- 
tence in the Novum Organum. " Man, the servant 
and interpreter of nature, can only understand and 
act in proportion as he observes and contemplates 
the order of nature ; more, he can neither know nor 
do." This, as has justly been observed, is undoubt- 
edly the foundation of all our real knowledge. 

The Novum Organum is so important, that we 
deem it desirable to present some more detailed 
accounts of it. 

The body of the work is divided into two parts ; 
the former of which is intended to serve as an 
introduction to the other, a preparation of the mind 
for receiving the doctrine. 

Bacon begins by endeavoring to remove the pre- 
judices and to obtain fair attention to his doctrine. 
He compares philosoph}? to " a vast pyramid, which 
ought to have the history of nature for its basis ; " 
he likens those who strive to erect by the force 
of abstract speculation to the giants of old, who, 



52 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

according to the poets, endeavored to throw Mount 
Ossa upon Pelion, and Olympus upon Ossa. The 
method of ^' anticipating nature," he denounces " as 
rash, hasty, and unphilosophical ; " whereas, ^' in- 
terpretations of nature, or real truths arrived at by 
deduction, cannot so suddenly arrest the mind ; and 
when the conclusion actually arrives, it may so 
oppose prejudice, and appear so paradoxical as to 
be in danger of not being received, notwithstanding 
the evidence that supports it, like mysteries of faith." 

Bacon first attacks the " Idols of the Mind," i. e. 
the great sources of prejudice, then the different 
false philosophical theories ; he afterwards proceeds 
to show what are the characteristics of false sys- 
tems, the causes of error in philosophy, and lastly 
the grounds of hope regarding the advancement of 
science. 

He now aspires, to use his own language, " only 
to sow the seeds of pure truth for posterity, and 
not to be wanting in his assistance to the first 
beginning of great undertakings." '^ Let the hu- 
man race," says he further, "regain their dominion 
over nature, which belongs to them by the bounty 
of their Maker, and right reason and sound religion 
will direct the use." 

The second part of the Novum Organum may be 
divided into three sections. The first is on the 
discovery of forms, i. e. causes in nature. The 
second section is composed of tables illustrative of 
the inductive method, and the third and last is 



NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 53 

styled the doctrine of instances, i. e. facts regarding 
the discovery of causes. 

Part the third of the Tnstauratio Magna was 
to be a Natural History, as he termed it, or rather 
a history of natural substances, in which the art of 
man had been employed, which would have been 
a history of universal nature. 

Part 4, to be called S^ala intellectus, or Intellec- 
tual Ladder, was intended to be, to use his own 
words, "types and models which place before our 
eyes the entire process of the mind in the discovery 
of truth, selecting various and remarkable instances." 

He had designed in the fifth part to give speci- 
mens of the new philosophy ; a few fragments only 
of this have been published. It was to be ^' the frag- 
ment of interest till the principal could be raised." 

The sixth and last part was " to display a perfect 
system of philosophy deduced and confirmed by a 
legitimate, sober, and exact inquiry according to the 
method he had laid down and invented." "To 
perfect this last part," says Bacon, "is above our 
powers and beyond our hopes. ' 

Let us return, however, for a moment to the 
commencement, to remark that he concludes the 
introduction by an eloquent prayer that his exer- 
tions may be rendered effectual to the attainment 
of truth and happiness. But he feels his own in- 
ability, for "his days are numbered," to conduct 
mankind to the hoped for goal. It was given to 
him to point out the road to the promised land ; but, 



54 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

like Moses, after having descried it from afar, it 
was denied him to enter the land to which he had 
led the way. 

LIFE OF HENRY VH. 

The Life of Henry VIL, published in 1622, is, in 
the opinion of Hallam, 'Hhe first instance in om- 
language of the application of philosophy to rea- 
soning on public events in the manner of the an- 
cients and the Italians. Praise upon Henry is too 
largely bestowed ; but it was in the nature of Bacon 
to admire too much a crafty and selfish policy ; and 
he thought also, no doubt, that so near an ancestor 
of his own sovereign should not be treated with 
severe impartiality." ^ 

LETTERS. 

His Letters published in his works are numerous ; 
they are written in a stiff, ungraceful, formal style ; 
but still, they frequently bear the impress of the 
wTiter's greatness and genius. Fragments of them 
have been frequently quoted in the course of this 
notice ; they have, perhaps, best served to exhibit 
more fully the man in all the relations of his public 
and private life. 

MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 

Amongst his miscellaneous papers there was found 
after his death a remarkable prayer, which Addison 

1 Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the 15th, 16th, and 
I7th centuries. 



NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 55 

deemed sufficiently beautiful to be published in the 
Tatler^ for Christmas, 1710. We extract a pas- 
sage or two, that may serve to illustrate Bacon's 
position or his character. 

'^ I have, though in a despised weed, procured the good of 
all men. If any have been my enemies, I thought not of 
them, neither hath the sun almost set upon my displeasure ; 
hut I have been as a dove, free from superfluity of malicions- 
ness." 

'' Just are thy judgments upon me for my sins, which are 
more in number than the sands of the sea, but have no pro- 
portion to thy mercies ; for what are the sands of the sea f 
Earth, heaven, and all these are nothing to thy mercies." 

Addison observes of this prayer, that for elevation 
of thought and greatness of expression, " it seems — 
rather the devotion of an angel than a man." 

In taking leave of the life and the works of the 
greatest of philosophers, and alas ! the least of men, 
we have endeavored to present a succinct but faithful 
narrative — " his glory not extenuated wherein he 
was Avorthy, nor his offences enforced, for which he 
suffered" merited obloquy with his own contempo- 
raries and all posterity. Our endeavor has been 

Verba animi proferre et vitam impendere vero. 

But his failings, great as they were, are forgotten 
through his transcendent merit ; his faults injured 
but few, and in his own time alone ; his genius has 
benefited all mankind. The new direction he gave to 
philosophy was the indirect cause of all the modern 

1 No. 267. 



56 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 

conquests of science over matter, or, as it were^ 
over nature. What it has already accomplished, 
and may yet effect for the whole human race, is 
incalculable. Macaulay, the historian of England, 
has been likewise the eloquent narrator of the pro- 
gress, that owes its origin to the genius of Francis 
Bacon. 

" Ask a follower of Bacon," says Macaulay, '' what the 
new philosophy, as it was called in the time of Charles the 
Second, has efiected for mankind, and his answer is ready : 
* It hath lengthened life ; it has mitigated pain ; it has extin- 
guished diseases ; it has increased the fertility of the soil : 
it has given new securities to the mariner; it has furnished 
new arms to the wanior ; it has sjjanned great rivers and 
estuaries with bridges of form unknown to our fathers ; it 
has guided the thunderbolt innocuously from heaven to earth ; 
it has liglited up the night witli the splendor of the day ; it 
has extended the range of the human vision ; it has multiplied 
the power of the human muscle ; it has accelerated motion ; it 
has annihilated distance ; it has facilitated intercourse, corres- 
pondence, all friendly offices, all dispatch of business ; it has 
enabled man to descend to the depths of the sea, to soar into 
the air, to penetrate securely into the noxious recesses of the 
earth, to traverse the land on cars which whirl along without 
horses, and the ocean in ships which sail against the wind. 
These are but a part of its fruits, and of its first-fruits. For 
it is a philosophy which never rests, which has never attained, 
which is never perfect. Its law is progress. A point M^hich 
yesterday was invisible is its goal to-day, and will be its 
starting-post to-morrow.' " ^ 

1 Essays. 



E S SAYS. 



I. — OF TRUTH. 

What is truth ? said jesting Pilate ; ^ and would 
not stay for an answer. Certainly, there be that 
delight in giddiness ; and count it a bondage to fix 
a belief; affecting freewill in thinking as well as 
in acting. And though the sects of philosophers of 
that kind be gone, yet there remain certain dis- 
coursing wits which are of the same veins, though 
there be not so much blood in them as was in those 
of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty 
and labor which men take in finding out of truth : 
nor again, that, when it is found, it imposeth upon 
men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor ; but 
a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself. 
One of the later schools^ of the Grecians examin- 

1 He refers to the following passage in the Gospel of St. John, 
xviii. 38: "Pilate saith unto him, What is truth? And when 
he had said this, he went out again unto the Jews, and saith 
unto them, I find in him no fault at all." 

2 He probably refers to the "New Academy," a sect of Greek 
philosophers, one of whose moot questions was, "What is 
truth ? " Upon which they came to the unsatisfactory conclu- 
sion, that mankind has no criterion by which to form a judg- 
ment. 



58 ESSAYS. 

eth the matter, and is at a stand to think what 
should be in it that men should love lies ; where 
neither they make for pleasure, as with poets ; nor 
for advantage, as with the merchant, but for the 
lie's sake. But I cannot tell ; this same truth is a 
naked and open daylight, that doth not show the 
masks, and mummeries, and triumphs of the world, 
half so stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth 
may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that 
showeth best by day, but it will not rise to the 
price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best 
in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add 
pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were 
taken out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering 
hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, 
and the like, but it would leave the minds of a num- 
ber of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy 
and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves? 
One of the fathers,^ in great severity, called poesy 
" vinum dsemonum," ^ because it filleth the imagina- 
tion, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. 
But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, 
but the lie that sinketh in, and settleth in it, that 
doth the hurt, such as we spake of before. But 
howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved 
judgments and affections, yet truth, which only doth 
judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, 

1 Perhaps he was thinking of St. Angustine. — See Aiig. Con- 
fess, i. 25, 26. 

^ "The wine of evil spirits." 



OF TRUTH. 59 

which is the love-making, or wooing of it, tlie knowl- 
edge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the 
belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the 
sovereign good of human nature. The first creature 
of God, in tlie works of the days, was the light of 
the sense ; ^ the last was the light of reason ; ^ and 
his sabbath work, ever since, is the illumination of 
his Spirit. First, he breathed light upon the face 
of the matter, or chaos ; then he breathed light into 
the face of man ; and still he breatheth and inspir- 
eth light into the face of his chosen. The poet ^ 
that beautified the sect,^ that was otherwise inferior 
to the rest, saith yet excellently well : " It is a 

1 Genesis i. 3: "And God said, Let there be light, and there 
was light." 

2 At the moment -when " The Lord God formed man out of 
the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath 
of life ; and man became a living soul." — Genesis ii. 7. 

2 Lucretius, the Roman poet and Epicurean philosopher, is 
alluded to. — Lucrct. ii. init. Comp. Adv. of Learning, i, 8, 5. 

* He refers to the sect which followed the doctrines of Epicu- 
rus. The life of Epicurus himself was pure and abstemious in 
the extreme. One of his leading tenets was, that the aim of all 
speculation should be to enable men to judge with certainty 
what course is to be chosen, in order to secure health of body 
and tranquillity of mind. The adoption, however, of the term 
" pleasure," as denoting this object, has at all periods subjected 
the Epicurean system to great reproach; whicli, in fact, is due 
rather to the conduct of many who, for their own purposes, have 
taken shelter under the system in name only, than to the tenets 
themselves, which did not inculcate libertinism. Epicurus 
admitted the existence of the Gods, but he deprived them of 
the characteristics of Divinity, either as creators or preservers 
of the world. 



60 ESSAYS. 

pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships 
tossed upon the sea ; a pleasure to stand in the 
window of a castle, and to see a battle, and the 
adventures thereof below ; but no pleasure is com- 
parable to the standing upon the vantage-ground 
of truth" (a hill not to be commanded, and where 
the air is always clear and serene), " and to see the 
errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in 
the vale below ; " ^ so always that this prospect be 
with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Certainly 
it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move 
in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the 
poles of truth. 

To pass from theological and philosophical truth 
to the truth of civil business; it will be acknowl- 
edged, even by those that practise it not, that clear 
and round dealing is the honor of man's nature, 
and that mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin 

1 Lord Bacon has either translated this passage of Lucretius 
from memory or has purposely paraphrased it. The following 
is the literal translation of the original: "'Tis a pleasant thing, 
from the shore, to behold the dangers of another upon the mighty 
ocean, when the winds are lashing the main ; not because it is a 
grateful pleasure for any one to be in misery, but because it is 
a pleasant thing to see those misfortunes from which 5'ou your- 
self are free : 'tis also a pleasant thing to behold the mighty 
contests of warfare, arrayed upon the plains, without a share in 
the danger ; but nothing is there more delightful than to occupy 
the elevated temples of the wise, well foitified by tranquil learn- 
ing, whence you may be able to look down upon others, and see 
them straying in every direction, and wandering in search of the 
path of life." 



OF TRUTH. 61 

of gold and silver, which may make the metal 
work the better, but it embaseth it. For these 
winding and crooked courses are the goings of the 
serpent ; which goeth basely upon the belly, and 
not upon the feet. There is no vice that doth so 
cover a man with shame, as to be found false and 
perfidious ; and therefore Montaigne ^ saith prettily, 
when he inquired the reason why the word of the 
lie should be such a disgrace, and such an odious 
charge : saith he, " If it be well weighed, to say 
that a man lieth, is as much as to say that he is 
brave towards God and a coward towards men. 
For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man ; " sure- 
ly, the wickedness of falsehood and l^reach of faith 
cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it 
shall be the last peal to call the judgments of God 
upon the generations of men : it being foretold, 
that, when " Christ cometh," he shall not " find 
faith upon the earth." ^ 

1 Michael de Montaigne, the celebrated French Essayist. His 
Essays embrace a variety of topics, which are treated in a 
sprightly and entertaining manner, and are replete with remarks 
indicative of strong native good sense. He died in 1592. The fol- 
lowing quotation is from the second book of the Essays, c. 18 : " Ly- 
ing is a disgraceful vice, and one that Plutarch, an ancient writer, 
paints in most disgraceful colors, when he says that it is ' affording 
testimony that one first despises God, and then fears men ; ' it is 
not possible more happily to describe its horrible, disgusting, and 
abandoned nature ; for, can we imagine anything more vile than 
to be cowards with regard to men, and brave with regard to God ? " 

2 St. Luke xviii. 8 : "Nevertheless, when the Son of man com- 
eth, shall he find faith upon the earth ?" 



62 ESSAYS. 



II. —OF DEATH.1 

Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark ; 
and as that natural fear in children is increased with 
tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation 
of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another 
world, is holy and religious ; but the fear of it, as 
a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious 
meditations there is sometimes mixture of vanity and 
of superstition. You shall read in some of the friars' 
books of mortification, that a man should think with 
himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's 
end pressed or tortured ; and thereby imagine what 
the pains of death are, when the whole body is cor- 
rupted and dissolved ; when many times death passeth 
with less pain than the torture of a limb, for the 
most vital parts are not the quickest of sense. And 
by him that spake only as a philosopher and natural 
man, it was well said, " Pompa mortis magis terret, 
quam mors ipsa."^ Groans and convulsions, and a 
discolored face, and friends weeping, and blacks ^ 
and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible. 
It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion 

1 A portion of this Essay is borrowed from the writings of 
Seneca. See his Letters to Litciliiis, B. iv. Ep. 24 and 82. 

2 ** The array of the death-bed has more terrors than death 
itself." This quotation is from Seneca. 

^ He probably alludes to the custom of hanging the room in 
black where the body of the deceased lay, a practice much more 
usual in Bacon's time than at the present day. 



OF DEATH. 63 

ill tlie mind of man so weak, but it mates and mas- 
ters the fear of death ; and therefore death is no 
such terrible enemy when a man hath so many at- 
tendants about him that can win the combat of him. 
Revenge triumphs over death ; love slights it ; honor 
aspireth to it ; grief flieth to it ; fear preoccupateth 
it; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain 
himself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections), 
provoked many to die out of mere compassion to 
their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers.^ 
Nay, Seneca ^ adds niceness and satiety : " Cogita 
quamdiu eadem feceris ; mori velle, non tan turn for- 
tis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest."^ A 
man would die, though he were neither valiant nor 
miserable, only upon a weariness to do the same 
thing so oft over and over. It is no less worthy to 
observe, how little alteration in good spirits the ap- 
proaches of death make : for they appear to be the 
same men till the last instant. Augustus Csesar 
died in a compliment : " Livia, conjugii nostri mem or, 
vive et vale." * Tiberius in dissimulation, as Tacitus 
saith of him, "Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non 
dissimulatio, deserebaut : "^ Vespasian in a jest, sitting 

1 Tacit, Hist. ii. 49. 

2 Ad Lucil. 77. 

3 "Reflect how often you do the same things; a man may 
wish to die, not only because either he is brave or wretched, but 
even because he is surfeited with life." 

* "Livia, mindful of our union, live on, and fare thee well." — 
Suet. Aug. Fit. c. 100. 

^ "His bodily strength and vitality were now forsaking Tibe- 
rius, but not his duplicity." — Ann. vi. 50. 



64 ESSAYS. 

upon the stool/ '^Ut puto Deus fio;"^ Galba with 
a sentence, ^^ Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani," ^ 
holding forth his neck ; Septimus Severus in dis- 
patch, '' Adeste, si quid mihi restat agendum," * and 
the like. Certainly, the Stoics ^ bestowed too much 
cost upon death, and by their great preparations 
made it appear more fearful. Better, saith he, " qui 
finem vitae extremum inter munera ponit naturae." ^ 
It is as natural to die as to be born ; and to a little 
infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other. 
He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that 

1 This was said as a reproof to liis flatterers, and in spirit is 
not unlike the rebuke administered by Canute to his retinue. — 
Suet. Vespas. Vit. c. 23. 

2 " I am become a Divinity, I suppose." 

3 " If it be for the advantage of the Roman people, strike." — 
Tac. Hist. i. 41. 

4 *'If aught remains to be done by me, dispatch. — Dio Cass. 
76, ad Jin. 

5 These were the followers of Zeno, a philosopher of Citium, 
in Cyprus, who founded the Stoic school, or "School of the 
Portico," at Athens. The basis of his doctrines was the duty of 
making virtue the object of all our researches. According to 
him, the pleasures of the mind were preferable to those of the 
body, and his disciples were taught to view with indiff'erence 
health or sickness, riches or poverty, pain or pleasure. 

6 "Who reckons the close of his life among the boons of 
nature." Lord Bacon here quotes from memory ; the passage 
is in the tenth Satire of Juvenal, and runs thus : — 

"Fortem posce animum, mortis terrore carentem. 
Qui spatium vitae extremum inter munera ponat 
Naturae " — 

" Pray for strong resolve, void of the fear of death, that reckons 
the closing period of life among the boons of nature." 



OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 65 

is wounded in hot blood, who, for the time, scarce 
feels the hurt ; and therefore a mind fixed and bent 
upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors 
of death; but, above all, believe it, the sweetest 
canticle is " Nunc dimittis," ^ when a man hath ob- 
tained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath 
this also, that it openeth the gate to good fame, and 
extinguisheth envy : " Extinetus amabitur idem." ^ 



III.— OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 

Religion being the chief band of human society, 
it is a happy thing when itself is well contained 
within the true band of unity. The quarrels and 
divisions about religion were evils unknown to the 
heathen. The reason was, because the religion of 
the heathen consisted rather in rites and ceremo- 
nies, than in any constant belief; for you may im- 
agine what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief 
doctors and fathers of their church were the poets. 

1 He alludes to the song of Simeon, to whom the Holy Ghost 
had revealed, "that he should not see death before he had seen 
the Lord's Christ." When he beheld the infant Jesus in the 
temple, he took the child in his arms and burst forth into a song 
of thanksgiving, commencing, " Lord, now lettest thou thy ser- 
vant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have 
seen thy salvation." — St. Luke ii. 29. 

2 "When dead, the same person shall be beloved. " — i7or. Ep. 
IL 1, 14. 

5 



66 ESSAYS. 

But the true God hath this attribute, that he is a 
jealous God ; and therefore his worship and religion 
will endure no mixture nor partner. We shall there- 
fore speak a few words concerning the unity of the 
church; what are the fruits thereof; what the 
bounds; and what the means. 

The fruits of unity (next mito the well-pleasing 
of God, which is all in all), are two; the one to- 
wards those that are without the church, the other 
towards those that are within. For the former, it 
is certain that heresies and schisms are, of all others, 
the greatest scandals, yea, more than corruption of 
manners ; for as in the natural body a wound or 
solution of continuity is worse than a corrupt hu- 
mor, so in the spiritual; so that nothing doth so 
much keep men out of the church, and drive men 
out of the church, as breach of unity; and there- 
fore, whensoever it cometh to that pass that one 
saith, "Ecce in Deserto,"^ another saith, "Ecce in 
penetralibus ; " ^ that is, when some men seek Christ 
in the conventicles of heretics, and others in an 
outward face of a church, that voice had need con- 
tinually to sound in men's ears, " nolite exire," " go 
not out." The doctor of tlie Gentiles (the propriety 
of whose vocation drew him to have a special care 
of those without) saith : '^ If a heathen ^ come 

1 "Behold, he is in the desert." — St. Matthew xxiv. 26. 

2 "Behold, he is in the secret chambers." — lb. 

3 He alludes to 1 Corinthians xiv. 23 : **If, therefore, the whole 
church be come together into one place, and all s^jeak with 



OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 67 

in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will 
he not say that you are mad ? " and, certainly, it 
is little better : when atheists and profane persons 
do hear of so many discordant and contrary opinions 
in religion, it doth avert them from the church, and 
maketh them "to sit down in the chair of the 
scorners." ^ It is but a light thing to be vouched 
in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the 
deformity. There is a master of scoffing, that, in 
his catalogue of books of a feigned library, sets down 
this title of a book, "The Morris-Dance ^ of Here- 
tics ; " for, indeed, every sect of them hath a diverse 
posture, or cringe, by themselves, which cannot but 
move derision in worldlings and depraved politicians, 
who are apt to contemn holy things. 

As for the fruit towards those that are within, 
it is peace, which containeth infinite blessings ; it 
establisheth faith ; it kindleth charity ; the outward 

tongues, and there come in those that are unlearned, or unbelievers, 
will they not say that ye are mad ? " 

1 Psalm i. 1 : " Blessed is the man that walketh not in the 
counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor 
sitteth in the seat of the scornful." 

2 This dance, which was originally called the Morisco dance 
is supposed to have been derived from the Moors of Spain ; the 
dancers in earlier times blackening their faces to resemble Moors. 
It was probably a corruption of the ancient Pyrrhic dance, which 
was performed by men in armor, and which is mentioned as still 
existing in Greece, in Byron's " Song of the Greek Captive :" — 

*' You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet." 

Attitude and gesture formed one of the characteristics of the dance. 
It is still practised in some parts of England. — Rabelais, Pantag. 
ii. 7. 



68 ESSAYS. 

peace of the chiircli distilleth into peace of con- 
science, and it turneth the labors of writing and 
reading of controversies into treatises of mortifica- 
tion and devotion. 

Concerning the bounds of unity, the true placing 
of them importeth exceedingly. There appear to 
be two extremes; for to certain zealots all speech 
of pacification is odious. "Is it peace, Jehu?" — 
" What hast thou to do with peace ? turn thee be- 
hind me." ^ Peace is not the matter, but following, 
and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans^ and 
lukewarm persons think they may accommodate 
points of religion by middle ways, and taking part 
of both, and witty reconcilements, as if they would 
make an arbitrament between God and man. Both 
these extremes are to be avoided ; which will be 
done if the league of Christians, penned by our 
Saviour himself, were in the two cross clauses 
thereof soundly and plainly expounded : " He that 
is not with us is against us ; " ^ and again, ^' He 
that is not against us, is with us ; " that is, if the 
points fundamental, and of substance in religion, 

1 2 Kings ix. 18. 

2 He alludes to the words in Revelation, c. iii. v. 14, 15, 16: 
" And unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans write : These 
things saith the Amen, the faithful and true Witness, the begin- 
ning of the creation of God ; I know thy works, that thou art 
neither cold nor hot. — I will spue thee out of my mouth. " Lao- 
dicea was a city of Asia Minor. St. Paul established the church 
there which is here referred to. 

3 St. Matthew xii. 30. 



OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 69 

were truly discerned and distinguished from points 
not merely of faith, but of opinion, order, or good 
intention. This is a thing may seem to many a 
matter trivial, and done already; but if it were 
done less partially, it would be embraced more 
generally. 

Of this I may give only this advice, according to 
my small model. Men ought to take heed of rend- 
ing God's church by two kinds of controversies ; the 
one is, when the matter of the point controverted 
is too small and light, not worth the heat and strife 
about it, kindled only by contradiction; for, as it 
is noted by one of the fathers, " Christ's coat indeed 
had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers 
colors ; " whereupon he saith, " In veste varietas sit, 
scissura non sit,"^ they be two things, unity and 
uniformity; the other is, when the matter of the 
point controverted is great, but it is driven to an 
over-great subtilty and obscurity, so that it becometh 
a thing rather ingenious than substantial. A man 
that is of judgment and understanding shall some- 
times hear ignorant men differ, and know well within 
himself, that those which so differ mean one thing, 
and yet they themselves would never agree ; and if 
it come so to pass in that distance of judgment, 
which is between man and man, shall we not think 
that God above, that knows the heart, doth not dis- 
cern that frail men, in some of their contradictions, 

1 "In the garment there may be many colors, but let there be 
no rendinir of it." 



70 ESSAYS. 

intend the same thing, and accepteth of both ? The 
nature of such controversies is excellently expressed 
by St. Paul, in the warning and precept that he 
giveth concerning the same : " Devita profanas vo- 
cum novitates, et oppositiones falsi nominis scientise." ^ 
Men create oppositions which are not, and put them 
into new terms, so fixed as, whereas the meaning 
ought to govern the term, the term in effect govern- 
eth the meaning. There be also two false peaces, or 
unities ; the one, when the peace is grounded but 
upon an implicit ignorance ; for all colors will agree 
in the dark ; the other, when it is pieced up upon 
a direct admission of contraries in fundamental 
points ; for truth and falsehood, in such things, are 
like the iron and clay in the toes of Nebuchad- 
nezzar's image ; ^ they may cleave, but they will not 
incorporate. 

Concerning the means of procuring unity, men 
must beware that, in the procuring or muniting of 
religious unity, they do not dissolve and deface the 
laws of charity and of human society. There be 
two swords amongst Christians, the spiritual and 
temporal, and both have their due office and place 
in the maintenance of religion ; but we may noi; 
take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword,^ 

1 " Avoid profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science, 
falsely so called." — 1 Tim. vi. 20. 

2 He alludes to the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, significant of the 
limited duration of his kingdom. — See Daniel ii. 33, 41. 

3 Mahomet proselytized by giving to the nations which he con- 
quered, the option of the Koran or the sword. 



OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 71 

or like unto it ; that is, to propagate religion by- 
wars, or, by sanguinary persecutions, to force con- 
sciences ; except it be in cases of overt scandal, 
blasphemy, or intermixture of practice against the 
state ; much less to nourish seditions, to authorize 
conspiracies and rebellions, to put the sword into 
the people's hands, and the like, tending to the sub- 
version of all government, which is the ordinance of 
God ; for this is but to dash the first table against 
the second, and so to consider men as Christians, as 
we forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet, 
when he beheld the act of Agamemnon, that could 
endure the sacrificing of his own daughter, ex- 
claimed ; — 

*' Tan turn religio potuit suadere malorura." ^ 

What would he have said, if he had known of 
the massacre in France,^ or the powder treason of 
England ? ^ He would have been seven times more 
epicure and atheist than he was ; for as the tempo- 

1 " To deeds so dreadful could religion prompt." The poet refers 
to the sacrifice by Agamemnon, the Grecian leader, of his daughter 
Iphigenia, with the -view of appeasing the wrath of Diana. — 
Lucrct. i. 95. 

2 He alludes to the massacre of the Huguenots, or Protestants, 
in France, which took place on St. Bartholomew's day, August 
24, 1572, by the order of Charles IX. and his mother, Catherine 
de Medici. On this occasion about 60,000 persons perished, 
including the Admiral De Coligny, one of the most virtuous 
men that France possessed, and the main stay of the Protestant 
cause. 

3 More generally known as *' The Gunpowder Plot." 



72 ESSAYS. 

ral sword is to be drawn with great circumspection 
in cases of religion, so it is a thing monstrous to 
put it into the hands of the common people ; let 
that be left unto the Anabaptists, and other furies. 
It was great blasphemy when the devil said, "I 
will ascend and be like the Highest ; " ^ but it is 
greater blasphemy to personate God, and bring him 
in saying, " I will descend, and be like the prince 
of darkness ; " and what is it better, to make the 
cause of religion to descend to the cruel and exe- 
crable actions of murdering princes, butchery of 
people, and subversion of states and governments? 
Surely, this is to bring down the Holy Ghost, in- 
stead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a 
vulture or raven ; and to set out of the bark of a 
Christian church a flag of a bark of pirates and 
assassins; therefore, it is most necessary that the 
church by doctrine and decree, princes by their 
sword, and all learnings, both Christian and moral, 
as by their ^lercury rod,^ do damn and send to hell 
forever those facts and opinions tending to the sup- 
port of the same, as hath been already in good 
part done. Surely, in counsels concerning religion, 
that counsel of the apostle would be prefixed : " Ira 
hominis non implet justitiam Dei ; " ^ and it was 

1 Isa. xiv. 14. 

2 Allusion is made to the ** caducens," with which Mercury, 
the messenger of the Gods, summoned the souls of the departed 
to the infernal regions. 

3 " The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God." 
— James i. 20. 



OF REVENGE. 73 

a notable observation of a wise father, and no 
less ingenuously confessed, that those which held 
and persuaded pressure of consciences, wxre com- 
monly interested therein themselves for their own 
ends. 



iy._OF REVENGE. 

Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the 
more man's nature runs to, the more ought law to 
weed it out ; for as for the first wrong, it doth but 
offend the law, but the revenge of that wrong, put- 
teth the law out of office. Certainly, in taking 
revenge, a man is but even with his enemy, but in 
passing it over, he is superior; for it is a prince's 
part to pardon; and Solomon, I am sure, saith, '' It 
is the glory of a man to pass by an offence." That 
which is past is gone and irrevocable, and wise men 
have enough to do with things present and to come ; 
therefore they do but trifle with themselves that 
labor in past matters. There is no man doth a 
wrong for the wrong's sake, but thereby to purchase 
himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like; 
therefore, why should I be angry with a man for 
loving himself better than me? And if any man 
should do wrong merely out of ill-nature, why, yet 
it is but like the thorn or briar, which prick and 
scratch, because they can do no other. The most 
tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which 



74 ESSAYS. 

there is no law to remedy ; but then, let a man take 
heed the revenge be such as there is no law to 
punish, else a man's enemy is still beforehand, and 
it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, 
are desirous the party should know whence it com- 
eth. This is the more generous ; for the delight 
seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt as 
in making the party repent; but base and crafty 
cowards are like the arrow that flieth in the dark. 
Cosmus, Duke of Florence,^ had a desperate saying 
against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those 
wrongs were unpardonable. " You shall read," saith 
he, " that we are commanded to forgive our enemies ; 
but you never read that we are commanded to for- 
give our friends." But yet the spirit of Job was 
in a better tune : " Shall we," saith he, " take good 
at God's hands, and not be content to take evil 
also ? " ^ and so of friends in a proportion. This is 
certain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his 
own wounds green, which otherwise would heal 
and do well. Public revenges^ are for the most 
part fortunate ; as that for the death of Caesar ; * 

1 He alludes to Cosmo de Medici, or Cosmo I., chief of the Re- 
public of Florence, the encourager of literature and the fine arts. 

2 Job ii. 10. — "Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and 
shall we not receive evil ? " 

^ By "public revenges," he means punishment awarded by the 
state with the sanction of the laws. 

* He alludes to the retribution dealt by Augustus and Anthony 
to the murderers of Julius Csesar. It is related by ancient his- 
torians, as a singular fact, that not one of them died a natural 
death. 



OF ADVERSITY. 75 

for the death of Pertinax ; for the death of Henry 
the Third of France ; ^ and many more. But in 
private revenges it is not so ; nay, rather, vindictive 
persons live the life of witches, who, as they are 
mischievous, so end they unfortunate. 



v. — OF ADVERSITY. 

It was a high speech of Seneca (after the man- 
ner of the Stoics), that ^'the good things which 
belong to prosperity are to be wished, but the good 
things that belong to adversity are to be admired." 
(" Bona rerum secundarum optabilia, adversarum 
mirabilia.") ^ Certainly, if miracles be the com- 
mand over nature, they appear most in adversity. 
It is yet a higher speech of his than the other 
(much too high for a heathen), " It is true greatness 
to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security 
of a God." ("Vere magnum habere fragilitatem 
hominis securitatem Dei.") ^ This would have done 

^ Henry III, of France was assassinated in 1599, by Jacques 
Clement, a Jacobin monk, in the frenzy of fanaticism. Although 
Clement justly suffered punishment, the end of this bloodthirsty 
and bigoted tyrant may be justly deemed a retribution dealt by 
the hand of an offended Providence ; so truly does the Poet 

say : — 

"neque enim lex aequior ulla 
Quani necis artifices arte perire sua." 

2 Sen. Ad Lucil. Q6. 3 jbid. 53. 



76 ESSAYS. 

better in poesy, where transcendencies are more 
allowed, and the poets, indeed, have been busy with 
it ; for it is, in effect, the thing which is figured in that 
strange fiction of the ancient poets,^ which seemeth 
not to be without mystery; nay, and to have some 
approach to the state of a Christian, " that Hercules, 
when he went to unbind Prometheus (by whom 
human nature is represented), sailed the length of 
the great ocean in an earthen pot or pitcher," lively 
describing Christian resolution, that saileth in the 
frail bark of the flesh through the waves of the 
world. But to speak in a mean, the virtue of 
prosperity is temperance, the virtue of adversity is 
fortitude, which in morals is the more heroical virtue. 
Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament, 
adversity is the blessing of the New, which carrieth 
the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation 
of God's favor. Yet even in the Old Testament, 
if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many 
hearse-like airs ^ as carols ; and the pencil of the 

1 Stesicliorus, Apollodorus, and others. Lord Bacon makes a 
similar reference to this myth in his treatise "On the Wisdom of 
the Ancients." "It is added with great elegance, to console and 
strengthen the minds of men, that this mighty hero (Hercules) 
sailed in a cup or ' urceus,' in order that they may not too much 
fear and allege the naiTowness of their nature and its frailty ; 
as if it were not capable of such fortitude and constancy ; of which 
very thing Seneca argued well, when he said, ' It is a great thing 
to have at the same time the frailty of a man, and the security 
of a God. ' " 

2 Funereal airs. It must be remembered that many of the 
Psalms of David were written by him when persecuted by Saul, 



OF ADVERSITY. 77 

Holy Ghost hath labored more in describing the 
afflictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon. 
Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes ; 
and adversity is not without comforts and hopes. 
We see, in needleworks and embroideries, it is more 
pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and 
solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy 
work upon a lightsome ground : judge, therefore, 
of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the 
eye. Certainly, virtue is like precious odors, most 
fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed; for 
prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity 
doth best discover virtue.^ 

as also in the tribulation caused by the wicked conduct of his 
son Absalom. Some of them, too, though called "The Psalms of 
David," were really composed by the Jews in their captivity at 
Babylon ; as, for instance, the 137th Psalm, which so beautifully 
commences, " By the waters of Babylon there we sat down." 
One of them is supposed to be the composition of Moses. 

1 This fine passage, beginning at "Prosperity is the blessing," 
which was not published till 1625, twenty-eight years after the 
first Essays, has been quoted by Macaulay, with considerable 
justice, as a proof that the writer's fancy did not decay with the 
advance of old age, and that his style in his later years became 
richer and softer. The learned critic contrasts this passage with 
the terse style of the Essay of Studies (Essay 50), which was 
published in 1597. 



78 ESSAYS. 



VI. — OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. 

Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy, or 
wisdom ; for it asketh a strong wit and a strong 
heart to know when to tell truth, and to do it ; 
therefore it is the weaker sort of politicians that are 
the great dissemblers. 

Tacitus saith, " Livia sorted well with the arts of 
her husband, and dissimulation of her son ; ^ attri- 
buting arts or policy to Augustus, and dissimulation 
to Tiberius : " and again, when ^lucianus encour- 
ageth Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he 
saith, "We rise not against the piercing judgment 
of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or closeness 
of Tiberius." ^ These properties of arts or policy, 
and dissimulation or closeness, are indeed habits and 
faculties several, and to be distinguished ; for if a 
man have that penetration of judgment as he can dis- 
cern what things are to be laid open, and what to 
be secreted, and what to be showed at half-lights, and 
to whom and when (which indeed are arts of state, 
and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them), to 
him a habit of dissimulation is a hinderance and a 
poorness. But if a man cannot obtain to that judg- 
ment, then it is left to him generally to be close, and 
a dissembler ; for where a man cannot choose or vary 
in particulars, there it is good to take the safest and 
wariest way in general, like the going softly by one 

1 Tac. Ann. v. 1. ^ Xac. Hist. ii. 76. 



OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. 79 

that cannot well see. Certainly, the ablest men that 
ever were, have had all an openness and frankness 
of dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity : 
but then they were like horses well managed, for 
they could tell passing well when to stop or turn ; 
and at such times, when they thought tlie case indeed 
required dissimulation, if then they used it, it came 
to pass that the former opinion spread abroad, of 
their good faith and clearness of dealing, made them 
almost invisible. 

There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling 
of a man's self: the first, closeness, reservation, and 
secrecy ; when a man leaveth himself without obser- 
vation, or without hold to be taken, what he is : 
the second, dissimulation in the negative ; when a 
man lets fall signs and arguments, that he is not 
that he is : and the third, simulation in the affirma- 
tive ; when a man industriously and expressly feigns 
and pretends to be that he is not. 

For the first of these, secrecy, it is indeed the 
virtue of a confessor ; and assuredly the secret man 
heareth many confessions ; for who will open himself 
to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought 
secret, it inviteth discovery, as the more close air 
sucketh in the more open; and, as in confession, 
the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease 
of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowl- 
edge of many things in that kind ; while men rather 
discharge their minds than impart their minds. In 
few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides 



80 ESSAYS. 

(to say truth), nakedness is uncomely, as well in 
mind as body ; and it addetli no small reverence to 
men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether 
open. As for talkers and futile persons, they are 
commonly vain and credulous withal ; for he that 
talketh what he knoweth, will also talk what he 
knoweth not; therefore set it down, that a habit 
of secrecy is both politic and moral : and in this part 
it is good that a man's face give his tongue leave 
to speak ; for the discovery of a man's self by the 
tracts ^ of his countenance, is a great weakness and 
betraying, by how much it is many times more 
marked and believed than a man's words. 

For the second, which is dissimulation, it followeth 
many times upon secrecy by a necessity ; so that he 
that will be secret must be a dissembler in some 
degree ; for men are too cunning to suffer a man to 
keep an indifferent carriage between both, and to 
be secret, without swaying the balance on either side. 
They will so beset a man with questions, and draw 
him on, and pick it out of him, that without an 
absurd silence, he must show an inclination one 
way ; or if he do not, they will gather as much by 
his silence as by his speech. As for equivocations, 
or oraculous si)eeches, they cannot hold out long : 
so that no man can be secret, except he give himself 
a little scope of dissimulation, which is, as it were, 
but the skirts or train of secrecy. 

But for the third degree, which is simulation and 

1 A word now unused, signifying the " traits," or '* features." 



OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. 81 

false profession, that I hold more culpable, and less 
politic, except it be in great and rare matters ; and, 
therefore, a general custom of simulation (which is 
this last degree) is a vice rising either of a natural 
falseness, or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some 
main faults ; which because a man must needs dis- 
guise, it maketh him practise simulation in other 
thino^s, lest his hand should be out of use. 

The advantages of simulation and dissimulation 
are three : first, to lay asleep opposition, and to sur- 
prise ; for, where a man's intentions are published, 
it is an alarum to call up all that are against them : 
the second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat ; 
for if a man engage himself by a manifest declara- 
tion, he must go through or take a fall : the third 
is, the better to discover the mind of another ; for 
to him that opens himself men will hardly show 
themselves adverse ; but will (fair) let him go on, 
and turn their freedom of speech to freedom of 
thought ; and therefore it is a good shrewd proverb 
of the Spaniard, " Tell a lie, and find a troth ; " ^ 
as if there were no way of discovery but by simu- 
lation. There be also three disadvantages to set it 
even ; the first, that simulation and dissimulation 
commonly carry with them a show of fearfulness, 
which, in any business, doth spoil the feathers of 
round flying up to the mark ; the second, that it 
puzzleth and perplexeth the conceits of many, that, 
perhaps, would otherwise cooperate with him, and 

1 A truth. —A, L. II. xxiii, 14. 
6 



82 ESSAYS. . 

makes a man walk almost alone to his own ends ; 
the third, and greatest, is, that it depriveth a man 
of one of the most principal instruments for action, 
which is trust and belief. The best composition and 
temperature is, to have openness in fame and opin- 
ion, secrecy in habit, dissimulation in seasonable use^ 
and a power to feign if there be no remedy. 



YIL — OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 

The joys of parents are secret, and so are their 
griefs and fears ; they cannot utter the one, nor they 
will not utter the other. Children sweeten labors, 
but they make misfortunes more bitter ; they in- 
crease the cares of life, but they mitigate the re- 
membrance of death. The perpetuity by generation 
is common to beasts ; but memory, merit, and noble 
works, are proper to men : and surely a man shall 
see the noblest works and foundations have pro- 
ceeded from childless men, which have sought to 
express the images of their minds where those of 
their bodies have failed ; so the care of posterity is 
most in them that have no posterity. They that are 
the first raisers of their houses are most indulgent 
towards their children, beholding them as the con- 
tinuance, not only of their kind, but of their work ; 
and so both children and creatures. 

The difference in affection of parents towards their 
several children is many times unequal, and some- 



OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 83 

times unworthy, especially in the mother ; as Solo- 
mon saith, "A wise son rejoiceth the father, but 
an ungracious son shames the mother."^ A man 
shall see, where there is a house fall of children, 
one or two of the eldest respected, and the youngest 
made wantons ; ^ but in the midst some that are, 
as it were, forgotten, who many times, nevertheless, 
prove the best. The illiberality of parents, in al- 
lowance towards their children, is a harmful error, 
makes them base, acquaints them with shifts, makes 
them sort with mean company, and makes them 
surfeit more when they come to plenty ; and, there- 
fore, the proofs is best when men keep their au- 
thority towards their children, but not their purse. 
Men have a foolish manner (both parents, and 
schoolmasters, and servants), in creating and breed- 
ing an emulation between brothers during childhood, 
which many times sorteth^ to discord when they 
are men, and disturbeth families,^ The Italians 

1 Proverbs x. 1 : "A wise son maketh a glad father, but a 
foolish son is the heaviness of his mother." 
^ Petted — spoiled. 

3 This word seems here to mean "a plan," or "method," as 
proved by its results. . J ^i 

4 Ends in. "4 

^ There is considerable justice in this remark. Children should 
be taught to do what is right for its own sake, and because it is 
their duty to do so, and not that they may have the selfish 
gratification of obtaining the reward which their companions have 
failed to secure, and of being led to think themselves superior to 
their companions. "When launched upon the world, emulation 
will be quite sufficiently forced upon them by stern necessity. 



84 ESSAYS. 

make little difference between children and nephews, 
or near kinsfolk ; but so they be of the lump, they 
care not, though they pass not through their own 
body ; and, to say truth, in nature it is much a like 
matter; insomuch that we see a nephew sometimes 
resembleth an uncle or a kinsman more than his 
own parent, as the blood happens. Let parents 
choose betimes the vocations and courses they mean 
their children should take, for then they are most 
flexible ; and let them not too much apply them- 
selves to the disposition of their children, as thinking 
they will take best to that which they have most 
mind to. It is true, that if the affection or aptness 
of the children be extraordinary, then it is good not 
to cross it ; but generally the precept is good, " Opti- 
mum elige, suave et facile illud fiiciet consuetudo." ^ 
— Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but 
seldom or never where the elder are disinherited. 



VIII. — OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE. 

He that hath wife and c^^ijdren hath given hos- 
tages to fortune ; for they are impediments to great 
enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly 
the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, 
have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men, 

1 "Select that course of life which is the most advantageous ; 
habit will soon render it pleasant and easily endured." 



OF MARKIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE. 85 

which, both in affection and means, have married 
and endowed the public. Yet it were great reason 
that those that have children should have greatest 
care of future times, unto which they know they 
must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there 
are who, though they lead a single life, yet their 
thoughts do end with themselves, and account future 
times impertinences ; nay, there are some other that 
account wife and children but as bills of charges ; 
nay more, there are some foolish, rich, covetous men, 
that take a pride in having no children, because 
they may be thought so much the richer ; for, per- 
haps they have heard some talk, '^Such an one is 
a great rich man," and another except to it, " Yea, 
but he hath a great charge of children ; " as if it 
were an abatement to his riches. But the most 
ordinary cause of a single life is liberty, especially 
in certain self-pleasing and humorous minds, which 
are so sensible of every restraint, as they will go 
near to think their girdles and garters to be bonds 
and shackles. Unmarried men are best friends, best 
masters, best servants ; but not always best subjects, 
for they are light to run away, and almost all fugi- 
tives are of that condition. A single life doth well 
with churchmen, for charity will hardly water the 
ground where it must first fill a pool.^ It is indiffer- 
ent for judges and magistrates ; for if they be facile 

1 His meaning is, that if clergymen have the expenses of a 
family to support, they will hardly find means for the exercise 
of henevolence toward their parishioners. 



86 ESSAYS. 

and corrupt, you shall have a servant five times 
worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals 
commonly, in their hortatives, put men in mind of 
their wives and children ; and I think the despising 
of marriage amongst the Turks maketh the vulgar 
soldier more base. Certainly, wife and children are 
a kind of discipline of humanity ; and single men, 
though they be many times more charitable, because 
their means are less exhaust, yet, on the other side, 
they are more cruel and hard-hearted (good to make 
severe inquisitors), because their tenderness is not 
so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom, 
and therefore constant, are commonly loving hus- 
bands, as was said of Ulysses, " Yetulam suam prae- 
tulit immortalitati." ^ Chaste women are often proud 
and froward, as presuming upon the merit of their 
chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of chas- 
tity and obedience, in the wife, if she think her 
husband wise, which she will never do if she find 
him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses, 
companions for middle age, and old men's nurses, 
so as a man may have a quarreP to marry when 
he will ; but yet he was reputed one of the wise men 
that made answer to the question when a man 
should marry, "A young man not yet, an elder 

1 " He preferred his aged wife Penelope to immortality." This 
was when Ulysses was entreated by the goddess Calypso to give 
up all thoughts of returning to Ithaca, and to remain with her 
in the enjoyment of immortality. — Plut. Gryll. 1. 

2 " May have a pretext," or " excuse." 



OF ENVY. 87 

man not at all." ^ It is often seen that bad hus- 
bands have very good wives ; whether it be that it 
raiseth the price of their husbands' kindness when 
it comes, or that the wives take a pride in their 
patience ; but this never fails, if the bad husbands 
were of their own choosing, against their friends' 
consent, for then they will be sure to make good 
their own folly. 



IX. — OF ENVY. 

There be none of the affections which have been 
noted to fascinate or bewitch, but love and envy. 
They both have vehement wishes ; they frame them- 
selves readily into imaginations and suggestions, and 
they come easily into the eye, especially upon the 
presence of the objects which are the points that 
conduce to fascination, if any such thing there be. 
We see, likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil 
eye ; ^ and the astrologers call the evil influences of 

1 Thales, Vide Diog. Laert. i. 26. 

2 So prevalent in ancient times was the notion of the injurions 
effects of the eye of envy, that, in common parlance, the Romans 
generally used the word " prerfiscini" — " v^'ithout risk of enchant- 
ment," or ''fascination," when they spoke in high terms of them- 
selves. They supposed that they thereby averted the effects of 
enchantment produced by the evil eye of any envious person who 
might at that moment possibly be looking upon them. Lord 
Bacon probably here alludes to St. Mark vii. 21, 22: "Out ot 
the heart of men proceedeth — deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye." 
Solomon also speaks of the evil eye, Prov. xxiii. 6, and xxviii. 22. 



88 ESSAYS. 

the stars evil aspects ; so that still there seemeth to 
be acknowledged, in the act of envy, an ejaculation, 
or irradiation of the eye ; nay, some have been so 
curious as to note that the times, when the stroke or 
percussion of an envious eye doth most hurt, are, 
when the party envied is beheld in glory or triumph, 
for that sets an edge upon envy ; and besides, at 
such times, the spirits of the person envied do come 
forth most into the outward parts, and so meet the 
blow. 

But, leaving these curiosities (though not un- 
worthy to be thought on in fit place), we will handle 
what persons are apt to envy others ; what persons 
are most subject to be envied themselves ; and what 
is the difference between public and private envy. 

A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envi- 
eth Adrtue in others ; for men's minds will either 
feed upon their own good, or upon others' evil ; and 
who wanteth the one will prey upon the other ; and 
whoso is out of hope to attain to another's virtue, 
will seek to come at even hand ^ by depressing 
another's fortune. 

A man that is busy and inquisitive, is commonly 
envious ; for to know much of other men's matters 
cannot be, because all that ado may concern his 
own estate ; therefore, it must needs be that he 
taketh a kind of play-pleasure in looking upon the 
fortunes of others ; neither can he that mindeth but 
his own business find much matter for envy ; for 

1 To be even with him. 



OF ENVY. 89 

envy is a gadding passion, and walketh the streets, 
and doth not keep home: ''Non est curiosus, quin 
idem sit malevolus." ^ 

Men of noble birth are noted to be envious to- 
wards new men when they rise, for the distance is 
altered; and it is like a deceit of the eye, that 
when others come on they think themselves go back. 

Deformed persons and eunuchs, and old men and 
bastards, are envious; for he tliat cannot possibly 
mend his own case, will do what he can to impair 
another's; except these defects light upon a very 
brave and heroical nature, which thinketh to make 
his natural wants part of his honor; in that it 
should be said, ''That a eunuch, or a lame man, 
did such great matters," affecting the honor of a 
miracle ; as it was in Narses ^ the eunuch, and Ages- 
ilaus and Tamerlane,^ that were lame men. 

1 "There is no person a busybody, but what he is ill-natured 
too." This passage is from the Stichus of Plautus. 

^ Narses superseded Belisarius in the command of the armies 
of Italy, by the orders of the Emperor Justinian. He defeated 
Totila, the king of the Goths (who had taken Rome), in a decisive 
engagement, in which the latter was slain. He governed Italy with 
consummate ability for thirteen years, when he was ungratefully 
recalled by Justin the Second, the successor of Justinian. 

3 Tamerlane, or Timour, was a native of Samarcand, of which 
territory he was elected emperor. He overran Persia, Georgia, 
Hindostan, and captured Bajazet, the valiant Sultan of the Turks, 
at the battle of Angora, 1402, whom he is said to have inclosed 
in a cage of iron. His conquests extended from the Irtish and 
Volga to the Persian Gulf, and from the Ganges to the Grecian 
Archipelago. While preparing for the invasion of China, he died, 
in the 70th year of his age, A. D. 1405. He was tall and corpulent 



90 ESSAYS. 

The same is the case of men that rise after calami- 
ties and misfortunes ; for they are as men fallen out 
with the times, and think other men's harms a re- 
demption of their own sufferings. 

They that desire to excel in too many matters, out 
of levity and vainglory, are ever envious, for they 
cannot want work ; it being impossible but many, in 
some one of those things, should surpass them ; 
which was the character of Adrian the emperor, that 
mortally envied poets and painters, and artificers in 
works, wherein he had a vein to excel.^ 

Lastly, near kinsfolk and fellows in office, and 
those that have been bred together, are more apt 
to envy their equals when they are raised; for it 
doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and 
pointeth at them, and cometh oftener into their 
remembrance, and incurreth likewise more into the 
note ^ of others ; and envy ever redoubleth from 
speech and fame. Cain's envy was the more vile 
and malignant towards his brother Abel, because 
when his sacrifice was better accepted, there was 
nobody to look on. Thus much for those that are 
apt to en\7. 

Concerning those that are more or less subject to 
envy : First, persons of eminent virtue, when they 
are advanced, are less envied, for their fortune 
seemeth but due unto them; and no man envieth 

in person, but was maimed in one hand, and lame on the right 
side. 

^ Spartian Vit. Adrian, 15. 

2 Comes under the observation. 



OF ENVY. 91 

the payment of a debt, but rewards and liberality 
rather. Again, envy is ever joined with the com- 
paring of a man's self; and where there is no 
comparison, no envy ; and therefore kings are not 
envied but by kings. Nevertheless, it is to be noted, 
that unworthy persons are most envied at their 
first coming in, and afterwards overcome it better ; 
whereas, contrariwise, persons of worth and merit 
are most envied when their fortune continueth long ; 
for by that time, though their virtue be the same, 
yet it hath not the same lustre ; for fresh men grow 
up that darken it. 

Persons of noble blood are less envied in their 
rising ; for it seemeth but right done to their birth : 
besides, there seemeth not so much added to their 
fortune ; and envy is as the sunbeams, that beat 
hotter upon a bank or steep rising ground, than 
upon a flat; and, for the same reason, those that 
are advanced by degrees are less envied than those 
that are advanced suddenly, and per saltum} 

Those that have joined with their honor great 
travels, cares, or perils, are less subject to envy; for 
men think that they earn their honors hardly, and 
pity them sometimes, and pity ever healeth envy. 
Wherefore you shall observe, that the more deep 
and sober sort of politic persons, in their greatness, 
are ever bemoaning themselves what a life they lead, 
chanting a quanta patimur ;^ not that they feel 

1 "By a leap," i. e. over the heads of others. 

2 " How vast the evils we endure." 



92 ESSAYS. 

it so, but only to abate tlie edge of envy ; but this 
is to be understood of business that is laid upon 
men, and not such as they call unto themselves ; 
for nothing increaseth envy more than an unneces- 
sary and ambitious engrossing of business ; and noth- 
ing doth extinguish envy more than for a great 
person to preserve all other inferior officers in their 
full rights and preeminences of their places; for, 
by that means, there be so many screens between 
him and envy. 

Above all, those are most subject to en^^, which 
carry the greatness of their fortunes in an insolent 
and proud manner; being never well but while 
they are showing how great they are, either by out- 
ward pomp, or by triumphing over all opposition 
or competition. Whereas wise men will rather do 
sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves, sometimes 
of purpose, to be crossed and overborne in things 
that do not much concern them. Notwithstanding, 
so much is true, that the carriage of greatness in a 
plain and open manner (so it be without arrogancy 
and vainglory), doth draw less envy than if it be 
in a more crafty and cunning fashion ; for in that 
course a man doth but disavow fortune, and seem- 
eth to be conscious of his own want in worth, and 
doth but teach others to envy him. 

Lastly, to conclude this part, as we said in the 
beginning that the act of envy had somewhat in it 
of witchcraft, so there is no other cure of envy 
but the cure of witchcraft ; and that is, to remove 



OF ENVY. 93 

the lot (as thej call it), and to lay it upon another ; 
for which purpose, tlie wiser sort of great persons 
bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon whom 
to derive the envy that would come upon them- 
selves ; sometimes upon ministers and servants, 
sometimes upon colleagues and associates, and the 
like; and, for that turn, there are never wanting 
some persons of violent and undertaking natures, 
who, so they may have power and business, will 
take it at any cost. 

Now, to speak of public envy : there is yet some 
good in public envy, whereas in private there is 
none ; for public envy is as an ostracism,^ that 
eclipseth men when they grow too great ; and there- 
fore it is a bridle also to great ones, to keep them 
with in bounds. 

This envy, being in the Latin word invidia,^ goeth 
in the modern languages by the name of discontent- 
ment, of which we shall speak in handling sedition. 
It is a disease in a state like to infection ; for as 
infection spreadeth upon that which is sound, and 
tainteth it, so, when envy is gotten once into a 
state, it traduceth even the best actions thereof, and 
turneth them into an ill odor; and therefore there 
is little won by intermingling of plausible actions; 
for that doth argue but a weakness and fear of envy, 

1 He probably alludes to the custom of the Athenians, who 
frequently ostracized or banished by vote their jmblic men, lest 
they should become too powerful. 

2 From in and video, — "to look upon;" with reference to 
the so-called "evil eye" of the envious. 



94 ESSAYS. 

which hurteth so much the more, as it is likewise 
usual in infections, which, if you fear them, you 
call them upon you. 

This public envy seemeth to beat chiefly upon 
principal officers or ministers, rather than upon 
kings and estates themselves. But this is a sure 
rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, 
when the cause of it in him is small ; or if the en\^ 
be general in a manner upon all the ministers of 
an estate, then the envy (though hidden) is truly 
upon the state itself. And so much of public envy 
or discontentment, and the difference thereof from 
private envy, which was handled in the first place. 

We will add this in general, touching the affec- 
tion of envy, that, of all other affections, it is the 
most importune and continual ; for of other affec- 
tions there is occasion given but now and then ; 
and therefore it was well said, " Invidia festos dies 
non agit : " ^ for it is ever Avorking upon some or 
other. And it is also noted, that love and envy do 
make a man pine, which other affections do not, 
because they are not so continual. It is also the 
vilest affection, and the most depraved ; for which 
cause it is the proper attribute of the devil, who 
is called " The envious man, that soweth tares 
amongst the wheat by night ; " ^ as it always Com- 
eth to pass that envy worketh subtilely, and in the 
dark, and to the prejudice of good things, such as 
is the wheat. 

1 "Envy keeps no holidays." 2 gee St. Matthew xiii. 25. 



OF LOVE. 95 



X, — OF LOVE. 

The stage is more beholding^ to love than the 
life of man ; for as to the stage, love is ever matter 
of comedies, and now and then of tragedies ; but in 
life it doth much mischief, sometimes like a Siren, 
sometimes like a Fury. You may observe, that, 
amongst all the great and worthy persons (whereof 
the memory remaineth, either ancient or recent), 
there is not one that hath been transported to the 
mad degree of love, which shows that great spirits 
and great business do keep out this weak passion. 
You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius, 
the half partner of the empire of Rome, and Ap- 
pius Claudius,'^ the decemvir and lawgiver ; whereof 
the former was indeed a voluptuous man, and inor- 
dinate, but the latter was an austere and wise man ; 
and therefore it seems (though rarely) that love 
can find entrance, not only into an open heart, but 
also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not well 
kept. It is a poor saying of Epicurus, " Satis 
magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus ; " ^ as if man, 

1 Beholden. 

2 He iniquitoiisly attempted to obtain possession of the person 
of Virginia, who was killed by lier father Virginius, to prevent 
her from falling a victim to his lust. This circumstance caused 
the fall of the Decemviri at Rome, who had been employed in 
framing the code of laws afterwards known as **The Laws of the 
Twelve Tables." They narrowly escaped being burned alive by 
the infuriated populace. 

3 "We are a sufficient theme for contemplation, the one for 



96 ESSAYS. 

made for the contemplation of heaven and all noble 
objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little 
idol, and make himself subject, though not of the 
mouth (as beasts are) yet of the eye, which was 
given him for higher purposes. It is a strange 
thing to note the excess of this passion, and how it 
braves the nature and value of things, by this, that 
the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in 
nothing but in love, neither is it merely in the 
phrase ; for whereas it hath been well said, " That 
the arch flatterer, with whom all the petty flatterers 
have intelligence, is a man's self; " certainly, the 
lover is more ; for there was never proud man 
thought so absurdly well of himself as the lover 
doth of the person loved ; and therefore it was well 
said, " That it is impossible to love and to be wise." ^ 
Neither doth this weakness appear to others only, 
and not to the party loved, but to the loved most of 
all, except the love be reciprocal ; for it is a true 
rule, that love is ever rewarded, either with the 

the other." — Sen. Upist. Mor. 1. 7. (A. L. 1. iii. 6.) Pope seems, 
notwithstanding this censure of Bacon, to have been of the same 
opinion with Epicurus : — 

"Know then thyself, presume not God to scan, 
The proper study for mankind is man." 

Essay on Man., Ep. ii. 1. 2. 

Indeed, Lord Bacon seems to have misunderstood the saying of 
Epicurus, who did not mean to recommend man as the sole 
object of the bodily vision, but as the proper theme for mental 
contemplation. 

1 Amare et sapere vix Deo conceditur. — Pub. Syr. Sent. 15. 
(A. L. ii. prooe. 10.) 



OF LOVE. 97 

reciprocal, or mth an inward and secret contempt ; 
by how much the more men ought to beware of this 
passion, which loseth not only other things, but 
itself. As for the other losses, the poet's relation ^ 
doth well figure them : " That he that preferred 
Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas ; " for 
whosoever esteemeth too much of amorous affec- 
tion, quitteth both riches and wisdom. This passion 
hath his floods in the very times of weakness, which 
are, great prosperity and great adversity, though 
this latter hath been less observed; both which 
times kindle love, and make it more fervent, and 
therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do 
best who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make 
it keep quarter, and sever it wholly from their 
serious affairs and actions of life ; for if it check 
once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and 
maketh men that they can nowise be true to their 
own ends. I know not how, but martial men are 
given to love ; I think it is, but as they arc given 
to wine, for perils commonly ask to be paid in 
pleasures. There is in man's nature a secret incli- 
nation and motion towards love of others, which, if 
it be not spent upon some one or a few, doth natu- 
rally spread itself towards many, and maketh men 
become humane and charitable, as it is seen some- 
times in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind, 
friendly love perfecteth it, but wanton love cor- 
rupteth and embaseth it. 

1 He refers liere to the judgment of Paris, mentioned by Ovid 
in his Epistles, of the Heroines. 

7 



98 ESSAYS. 



XL — OF GREAT PLACE.i 

Men in great place are thrice servants — servants 
of the sovereign or state, servants of fame, and ser- 
vants of business ; so as they have no freedom, 
neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor 
in their times. It is a strange desire to seek power 
and to lose liberty; or to seek power over others, 
and to lose power over a man's self. The rising 
unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to 
greater pains ; and it is sometimes base, and by 
indignities men come to dignities. The standing is 
slippery, and the regress is either a downfall, or at 
least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing : " Cum 
non sis qui fueris, non esse cur velis vivere."^ Kay, 
retire men cannot when they would, neither will 
they when it were reason ; but are impatient of 
privateness even in age and sickness, which require 
the shadow; like old townsmen, that will be still 
sitting at their street door, though thereby they 
offer age to scorn. Certainly, great persons had 
need to borrow other men's opinions to think them- 
selves happy ; for if they judge by their own feeling, 
they cannot find it; but if they think with them- 
selves what other men think of them, and that 
other men would fain be as they are, then they are 

1 Montaigne has treated this subject before Bacon, under the 
title of Dc Vincommodite de la Grandeur (B. iii. ch. vii.)- 

2 "Since you are not what you were, there is no reason why you 
should wish to live." 



OF GREAT PLACE. 99 

happy as it were by report, when, perhaps, they find 
the contrary withhi ; for they are the first that find 
their own griefs, though they be the last that find 
their own faults. Certainly, men in great fortunes 
are strangers to themselves, and while they are in 
the puzzle of business, they have no time to tend 
their health either of body or mind. 

"Illi mors gravis inciibat, 
Qui notus iiimis omnibus, 
Ignotus moritur." ^ 

In place, there is license to do good and evil, 
whereof the latter is a curse ; for in evil, the best 
condition is not to will, the second not to can. But 
power to do good is the true and lawful end of 
aspiring; for good thoughts, though God accept 
them, yet towards men are little better than good 
dreams, except they be put in act ; and that can- 
not be without power and place, as the vantage 
and commanding ground. Merit and good works 
are the end of man's motion, and conscience of the 
same is the accomplishment of man's rest ; for if a 
man can be partaker of God's theatre, he shall like- 
wise be partaker of God's rest. ^' Et conversus Deus, 
ut aspiceret opera, quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit 
quod omnia essent bona nimis ; " ^ and then the 

Sabbath. 

I 

1 ** Death presses heavily upon him, who, well known to all 
others, dies unknown to himself." — Sen. Thijest. ii. 401. 

2 *' And God turned to behold the works which his hands had 
made, and he saw that everything was very good." — See Gen. i. 31. 



100 ESSAYS. 

In the discharge of thy place, set before thee the 
best examples ; for imitation is a globe of precepts, 
and after a time set before thee thine own example ; 
and examine thyself strictly whether thou didst not 
best at first. Neglect not also the examples of those 
that have carried themselves ill in the same place ; 
not to set off thyself by taxing their memory, but 
to direct thyself what to avoid. Reform, therefore, 
without bravery or scandal of former times and per- 
sons ; but yet set it down to thyself, as well to create 
good precedents as to follow them. Reduce things 
to the first institution, and observe wherein and how 
they have degenerated ; but yet ask counsel of both 
times — of the ancient time what is best, and of the 
latter time what is fittest. Seek to make thy course 
regular, that men may know beforehand what they 
may expect ; but be not too positive and peremp- 
tory, and express thyself well when thou digressest 
from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place, but 
stir not questions of jurisdiction ; and rather assume 
thy right in silence, and de facto,^ than voice it with 
claims and challenges. Preserve likewise the rights 
of inferior places ; and think it more honor to direct 
in chief than to be busy in all. Embrace and invite 
helps and advices touching the execution of thy 
place ; and do not drive away such as bring thee 
information, as meddlers, but accept of them in good 
part. The \ices of authority are chiefly four: de- 
lays, corruption, roughness, and facility. For delays, 

1 "As a matter of course." 



OF GREAT PLACE. 101 

give easy access, keep times appointed, go through 
with that which is in hand, and interlace not busi- 
ness but of necessity. For corruption, do not only 
bind thine own hands or thy servant's hands from 
taking, but bind the hands of suitors also from offer- 
ing; for integrity used doth the one, but integrity 
professed, and with a manifest detestation of bribery, 
doth the other ; and avoid not only the fault, but the 
suspicion. Whosoever is found variable, and chang- 
eth manifestly without manifest cause, giveth sus- 
picion of corruption ; therefore, always when thou 
changest thine opinion or course, profess it plainly, 
and declare it, together with the reasons that move 
thee to change, and do not think to steal it. A 
servant or a favorite, if he be inward, and no other 
apparent cause of esteem, is commonly thought but 
a by-way to close corruption. For roughness, it is 
a needless cause of discontent : severity breedeth 
fear, but roughness breedeth hate. Even reproofs 
from authority ought to be grave, and not taunting. 
As for facility,^ it is worse than bribery, for bribes 
come but now and then ; but if importunity or idle 
respects ^ lead a man, he shall never be without ; as 
Solomon saith, " To respect persons is not good ; for 
such a man will transgress for a piece of bread." ^ 

1 Too great easiness of access, 

2 Predilections that are undeserved. 

2 Proverbs xxviii. 21. The whole passage stands thus in our 
version : "He that niaketh haste to be rich shall not be innocent. 
To have respect of persons is not good ; for, for a piece of bread, 
that man will transgress." 



102 ESSAYS. 

It is most true that was anciently spoken : " A 
place showeth the man ; and it showeth some to the 
better, and some to the worse : " " Omnium consensu 
capax imperii, nisi imperasset," ^ saith Tacitus of 
Galba ; but of Vespasian he saith, " Solus impe- 
rantium, Vespasianus mutatus in melius ; " ^ though 
the one was meant of sufficiency, the other of man- 
ners and affection. It is an assured sign of a worthy 
and generous spirit, whom honor amends ; for honor 
is, or should be, the place of virtue ; and as in nature 
things move violently to their place, and calmly in 
their place, so virtue in ambition is ^dolent, in 
authority settled and calm. All rising to great place 
is by a winding stair ; and if there be factions, it is 
good to side a man's self whilst he is in the rising, 
and to balance himself when he is placed. Use the 
memory of thy predecessor fairly and tenderly ; for 
if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when 
thou art gone. If thou have colleagues, respect 
them ; and rather call them when they look not for 
it, than exclude them when they have reason to look 
to be called. Be not too sensible or too remember- 
ing of thy place in conversation and private answers 
to suitors ; but let it rather be said, " When he sits 
in place, he is another man." 

1 ** By the consent of all lie was fit to govern, if he had not 
governed." 

2 "Of the emperors, Vespasian alone changed for the better 
after his accession.'" — Tac. Hist. i. 49, 50 (A. L. ii. xxii. 5). 



OF BOLDNESS. 103 



XII. — OF BOLDNESS. 

It is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy 
a wise man's consideration. Question was asked of 
Demosthenes, what was the chief part of an orator ? 
He answered, Action. What next ? — Action. What 
next again? — Action.^ He said it that knew it 
best, and had, by nature, himself no advantage in 
that he commended. A strange thing, that that part 
of an orator which is but superficial, and rather the 
virtue of a player, should be placed so high above 
those other noble parts of invention, elocution, and 
the rest ; nay, almost alone, as if it were all in all. 
But the reason is plain. There is in human nature 
generally more of the fool than of the wise ; and 
therefore, those faculties by which the foolish part 
oi men's minds is taken are most potent. Wonder- 
ful like is the case of boldness in civil business. 
What first ? — Boldness : what second and third ? — 
Boldness. And yet boldness is a child of ignorance 
and baseness, far inferior to other parts ; but, never- 
theless, it doth fascinate, and bind hand and foot 
those that are either shallow in judgment or weak 
in courage, which are the greatest part, yea, and 
prevaileth with wise man at weak times ; therefore, 
we see it hath done w^onders in popular states, but 
with senates and princes less, and more, ever upon 
the first entrance of bold persons into action than 

1 Plut. vit. Demosth. 17. IS. 



104 ESSAYS. 

soon after ; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. 
Surely, as there are mountebanks for the natural 
body, so are there niountebanks for the politic body ; 
men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have 
been lucky in two or three experiments, but want 
the grounds of science, and therefore cannot hold 
out ; nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times do 
Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people 
believe that he would call a hill to him, and from 
the top of it offer up his prayers for the observers of 
his law. The people assembled ; Mahomet called 
the hill to come to him again and again ; and when 
the hill stood still, he was never a whit abashed, 
but said, " If the hill will not come to Mahomet, 
JNIahomet will go to the hill." So these men, when 
they have promised great matters and failed most 
shamefully, yet, if they have the ] erfection of boldness, 
they ^\dll but slight it over, and make a turn, and no 
more ado. Certainly, to men of great judgment, 
bold persons are a sport to behold ; nay, and to the 
\Tilgar also boldness hath somewhat of the ridiculous ; 
for if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you 
not but great boldness is seldom without some ab- 
surdity ; especially it is a sport to see when a bold 
fellow is out of countenance, for that puts his face 
into a most shrunken and wooden posture, as needs 
it must ; for in bashfulness the spirits do a little go 
and come, but with bold men, upon like occasion, 
they stand at a stay ; like a stale at chess, where it 
is no mate, but yet the game cannot stk ; but this 



OF GOODNESS, ETC. 105 

last were fitter for a satire than for a serious obser- 
vation. This is well to be weighed, that boldness 
is ever blind, for it seeth not dangers and incon- 
veniences ; therefore, it is ill in counsel, good in exe- 
cution ; so that the right use of bold persons is, that 
they never command in chief, but be seconds and 
under the direction of others ; for in counsel it is 
good to see dangers ; and in execution not to see 
them except they be very great. 



XIII. — OF GOODNESS, AND GOODNESS OF 
NATURE. 

I TAKE goodness in this sense, the affecting of 
the weal of men, which is that the Grecians call 
philanthropia ; and the word humanity, as it is 
used, is a little too light to express it. Goodness I 
call the habit, and goodness of nature the inclina- 
tion. This, of all virtues and dignities of the mind, 
is the greatest, being the character of the Deity ; 
and without it man is a busy, mischievous, wretched 
thing, no better than a kind of vermin. Goodness 
answers to the theological virtue charity, and admits 
no excess but error. The desire of power in excess 
caused the angels to fall ; ^ the desire of knowledge 

1 It is not improbable that this passage suggested Pope's beauti- 
ful lines in the Essay on Man, Ep. i. 125-28. 

" Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, 
Men would be angels, angels would be gods. 
Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell, 
Aspiring to be angels, men rebel." 



106 ESSAYS. 

in excess caused man to fall ; but in charity there 
is no excess, neither can angel or man come in 
danger by it. The inclination to goodness is im- 
printed deeply in the nature of man, insomuch that 
if it issue not towards men, it will take unto other 
living creatures ; as it is seen in the Turks, a cruel 
people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and 
give alms to dogs and birds ; insomuch, as Busbe- 
chius ^ reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople 
had like to have been stoned for gagging in a wag- 
gishness a long-billed fowl.^ Errors, indeed, in this 

1 Auger Gisleii Biisbec, or Busbequius, a learned traveller, 
born at Comines, in Flanders, in 1522. He was employed by 
the Emperor Ferdinand as ambassador to the Sultan Solyman 
II. He was afterwards ambassador to France, where he died, in 
1592. His '• Letters " relative to his travels in the East, which 
are written in Latin, contain much interesting information. They 
were the pocket companion of Gibbon, and are highly praised 
by him. 

2 In this instance the stork or crane was probably protected, 
not on the abstract grounds mentioned in the text, but for reasons 
of state policy and gratitude combined. In Eastern climates 
the cranes and dogs are far more efficacious than human agency in 
removing filth and oflfld, and thereby diminishing the chances of 
pestilence. Superstition, also, may have formed another motive, 
as we learn from a letter written from Adrianople, by Lady Mon- 
tagu, in 1718, that storks were "held there in a sort of religious 
reverence, because they are supposed to make every winter tlie 
pilgrimage to Mecca. To say truth, they are the happiest subjects 
under the Turkish government, and are so sensible of their privi- 
leges, that they walk the streets without fear, and generally build 
their nests in the lower parts of the houses. Happy are those 
whose houses are so distinguished, as the vulgar Turks are per- 
fectly persuaded that they will not be that year attacked either 



OF GOODNESS, ETC. 107 

virtue, of goodness or charity, may be committed. 
The Itahans have an ungracious proverb : " Tanto 
buon che val niente ; " " So good, that he is good 
for nothing ; " and one of the doctors of Italy, Nicho- 
las Machiavel,^ had the confidence to put in writing, 
almost in plain terms, " That the Christian faith had 
given up good men in prey to those that are tyran- 
nical and unjust ; "^ which he spake, because, indeed, 
there was never law, or sect, or opinion did so much 
magnify goodness as the Christian religion doth ; 
therefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger both, 
it is good to take knowledge of the errors of a habit 
so excellent. Seek the good of other men, but be 
not in bondage to their faces or fancies ; for that is 
but facility or softness, which taketh an honest mind 

by live or pestilence." Storks are still protected, by municipal law, 
in Holland, and roam unmolested about the market-places. 

1 Nicolo Machiavelli, a Florentine statesman. Rewrote "Dis- 
courses on the first Decade of I.ivy," which were conspicuous for 
their liberality of sentiment, and just and profound reflections. 
This work was succeeded by his famous treatise, "II Principe," 
" The Prince ; " his patron, Csesar Borgia, being the model of the 
perfect prince there described by him. The whole scope of this 
work is directed to one object — the maintenance of power, however 
acquired. Though its precepts are no doubt based upon the actual 
practice of the Italian politicians of that day, it has been suggested 
by some writers that the work was a covert exposure of the deform- 
ity of the shocking maxims that it professes to inculcate. The 
question of his motives has been much discussed, and is still con- 
sidered open. The word " Machiavellism " has, however, been 
adopted to denote all that is deformed, insincere, and perfidious in 
politics. He died in great poverty, in the year 1527. 

2 Vide Disc. Sop. Liv. ii. 2. . 



108 ESSAYS. 

prisoner. Neither give thou ^sop's cock a gem, 
who would be better pleased and happier if he had 
had a barley-corn. The example of God teacheth 
the lesson truly : ^^ He sendeth his rain, and maketh 
his sun to shine upon the just and the unjust ; " ^ 
but he doth not rain wealth, nor shine honor and 
virtues upon men equally ; common benefits are to 
be communicate with all, but peculiar benefits with 
choice. And beware how, in making the portraiture, 
thou breakest the pattern; for divinity maketh the 
love of ourselves the pattern, the love of our neigh- 
bors but the portraiture : '' Sell all thou hast, and 
give it to the poor, and follow me ; " ^ but sell not all 
thou hast, except thou come and follow me ; that is, 
except thou have a vocation wherein thou mayest do 
as much good with little means as with great ; for 
otherwise, in feeding the streams thou driest the 
fountain. Neither is there only a habit of goodness 
directed by right reason, but there is in some men, 
even in nature, a disposition towards it ; as, on the 
other side, there is a natural malignity, for there 
be that in their nature do not affect the good of 

1 St. Matthew v. 45. "For lie maketh his sun rise on the 
evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the 
unjust." 

2 This is a portion of our Saviour's reply to the rich man who 
asked him what he should do to inherit eternal life : " Then Jesus 
beholding him, loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou 
lackest : go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the 
poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven ; and come, take up 
the cross, and follow me." — St. Mark x. 21. 



OF GOODNESS, ETC. 109 

others. The lighter sort of malignity turneth but 
to a crossness, or frowardness, or aptness to oppose, 
or difficileness, or the like ; but the deeper sort to 
envy, and mere mischief. Such men in other men's 
calamities arc, as it were, in season, and are ever 
on the loading part ; not so good as the dogs that 
licked Lazarus's sores,^ but like flies that are still 
buzzing upon any thing that is raw ; misanthropi, 
that make it their practice to bring men to the 
bough, and yet have never a tree for the purpose 
in their gardens, as Timon ^ had. Such dispositions 
are the very errors of human nature, and yet they 
are the fittest timber to make great politics of ; like 
to knee timber,^ that is good for ships that are 
ordained to be tossed, but not for building houses 
that shall stand firm. The parts and signs of good- 
ness are many. If a man be gracious and courteous 
to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, 

A See St. Luke xvi. 21. 

a Tiinon of Athens, as lie is generally called (being so styled by 
Shakspeare in the play which he has founded on his story), was 
siirnamed the "Misanthrope," from the hatred which he bore to 
his fellow-men. He was attached to Apemantus, another Athenian 
of similar character to himself, and he professed to esteem Alci- 
biades, because he foresaw that he would one day bring ruin on 
his country. Going to the public assembly on one occasion, he 
mounted the rostrum, and stated that he had a fig-tree, on which 
many worthy citizens had ended their days by the halter ; that he 
was going to cut it down for the purpose of building on the spot, 
and therefore reconmiended all such as were inclined, to avail 
themselves of it before it was too late. 

3 A piece of timber that has grown crooked, and has been so 
cut that the trunk and branch form an angle. 



110 ESSAYS. 

and that his heart is no island cut off from other 
lands, but a continent that joins to them; if he be 
compassionate towards the afflictions of others, it 
shows that his heart is like the noble tree that is 
wounded itself when it gives the balm ; ^ if he easily 
pardons and remits offences, it shows that his mind 
is planted above injuries, so that he cannot be shot ; 
if he be thankful for small benefits, it shows that he 
weighs men's minds, and not their trash ; but, above 
all, if he have St. Paul's perfection, that he would 
wish to be an anathema ^ from Christ for the salva- 
tion of his brethren, it shows much of a divine nature, 
and a kind of conformity with Christ himself. 



XIV. — OF NOBILITY. 

We Avill speak of nobility, first, as a portion of an 
estate, then as a condition of particular persons. A 
monarchy, where there is no nobility at all, is ever 
a pure and absolute tyranny as that of the Turks ; 
for nobility attempers sovereignty, and draws the 

1 He probably here refers to the myrrh- tree. Incision is the 
method usually adopted for extracting the resinous juices of trees ; 
as in the India-rubber and gutta-percha trees. 

2 "A votive," and, in the present instance, a "vicarious offer- 
ing." He alludes to the words of St. Paul in his Second Epistle 
to Timothy ii. 10: "Therefore I endure all things for the elect's 
sake, that they may also obtain the salvation which is in Christ 
Jesus with eternal glory." 



OF NOBILITY. HI 

eyes of the people somewhat aside from the line 
royal : but for democracies they need it not ; and 
they are commonly more quiet and less subject to 
sedition than where there are stirps of nobles ; for 
men's eyes are upon the business, and not upon the 
persons ; or if upon the persons, it is for the business 
sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree. We 
see the Switzers last well, notwithstanding their 
diversity of religion and of cantons ; for utility is 
their bond, and not respects.^ The United Provinces 
of tlie Low Countries ^ in their government excel ; 
for where there is an equality the consultations are 
more indifferent, and the payments and tributes more 
cheerful. A great and potent nobility addeth ma- 
jesty to a monarch, but diminisheth power, and put- 
teth life and spirit into the people, but presseth their 
fortune. It is well when nobles are not too great 
for sovereignty nor for justice ; and yet maintained 
in that height, as the insolency of inferiors may be 
broken upon them, before it come on too fast upon 
the majesty of kings. A numerous nobility causeth 
poverty and inconvenience in a state, for it is a sur- 
charge of expense ; and besides, it being of necessity 
that many of the nobility fall in time to be weak in 
fortune, it maketh a kind of disproportion between 
honor and means. 

^ Consideration of, or predilection for, particular persons. 

4 The Low Countries had then recently emancipated themselves 
from the galling yoke of Spain. They were called the Seven United 
Proviuces oi the Nethciiands. 



112 ESSAYS. 

As for nobility in particular persons, it is a rever- 
end thing to see an ancient castle or building not 
in decay, or to see a fair timber-tree sound and 
perfect ; how much more to behold an ancient noble 
family, which hath stood against the waves and 
weathers of time ! For new nobility is but the act of 
power, but ancient nobility is the act of time. Those 
that are first raised to nobility are commonly more 
virtuous,^ but less innocent than their descendants ; 
for there is rarely any rising but by a commixture 
of good and evil arts ; but it is reason the memory 
of their virtues remain to their posterity, and their 
faults die with themselves. Nobility of birth com- 
monly abateth industry, and he that is not indus- 
trious, envieth him that is ; besides, noble persons 
cannot go much higher ; and he that standeth at a 
stay when others rise, can hardly avoid motions of 
envy. On the other side, nobility extinguisheth the 
passive envy from other* towards them, because they 
are in possession of honor. Certainly, kings that 
have able men of their nobility shall find ease in 
employing them, and a better slide into their busi- 
ness ; for people naturally bend to them, as born 
in some sort to command. 

1 This passage may at first sight appear somewhat contradic- 
toiy ; but he means to sa}^ that those who are first ennobled will 
commonly be found more conspicuous for the prominence of their 
qualities, both good and bad. 

2 Consistent with reason and justice. 



OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 113 



XV. — OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 

Shepherds of people had need know the cal- 
endars of tempests in state, which are commonly 
greatest when things grow to equality; as natural 
tempests are greatest about the equinoctia/ and as 
there are certain hollow blasts of wind and secret 
swellings of seas before a tempest, so are there in 
states : — 

"Ille etiam csecos instare tumultus 
Ssepe monet, fraudesque et operta tumescere bella." 2 

Libels and licentious discourses against the state, 
when they are frequent and open ; and in like sort 
false news, often running up and down, to the disad- 
vantage of the state, and hastily embraced, are 
amongst the signs of troubles. Virgil, giving the 
pedigree of Fame, saith she was sister to the 
giants : — 

** Illam Terra parens, ira irritata Deorum, 
Extremam (iit perhibent) Coeo Enceladoque sororem 
Progenuit." ^ 

As if fames were the relics of seditions past; 
but they are no less indeed the preludes of sedi- 
tions to come. Howsoever, he noteth it right, that 

1 The periods of the Equinoxes. 

2 "He often warns, too, that secret revolt is impending, that 
treachery and open warfare are ready to hurst forth," — Virg. 
Georg. i. 465. 

^ ** Mother Earth, exasperated at the wrath of the Deities, pro- 
duced her, as they tell, a last birth, a sister to the giants Cceus, 
and Enceladus." — Virg. ^n. iv. 179. 

8 



114 ESSAYS. 

seditious tumults and seditious fames differ no more 
but as brother and sister, masculine and feminine; 
especially if it come to that, that the best actions of 
a state, and the most plausible, and which ought to 
give greatest contentment, are taken in ill sense, 
and traduced; for that shows the envy great, as 
Tacitus saith, "Conflate magn^ invidiS., sen bene, 
sen male, gesta premunt." ^ Neither doth it follow, 
that because these fames are a sign of troubles, that 
the suppressing of them with too much severity 
should be a remedy of troubles; for the despising 
of them many times checks them best, and the 
going about to stop them doth but make a wonder 
long-lived. Also that kind of obedience, which Taci- 
tus speaketh of, is to be held suspected : " Erant 
in officio, sed tamen qui mallent imperantium man- 
data interpretari, quam exsequi ; " ^ disputing, ex- 
cusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions, is 
a kind of shaking off the yoke, and assay of dis- 
obedience ; especially if, in those disputings, they 
which are for the direction speak fearfully and ten- 
derly, and those that are against it audaciously. 

1 " Great public odium once excited, his deeds, whether good 
or whether bad, cause his downfalL"' Bacon has here quoted 
incorrectly, probably froin niemoryc The words of Tacitus are 
{Hist. B. i. C. 7),: " Inviso semel principe, seu bene, seu male, 
facta premunt," — "The ruler once detested, his actions, whether 
good or whether bad, cause his downfall." 

2 " They attended to their duties ; but still, as preferring rather 
to discuss the commands of their rulers, than to obey them." — 
Tac. Hist. ii. 39. 



OF SEDITIONS AND TEOUBLES. 115 

Also, as Macliiavel noteth well, when princes, 
that ought to be common parents, make themselves 
as a party, and lean to a side ; it is as a boat that 
is overthrown by uneven weight on the one side, 
as was well seen in the time of Henry the Third of 
France ; for first himself entered league ^ for the 
extirpation of the Protestants, and presently after 
the same league was turned upon himself; for when 
the authority of princes is made but an accessary to 
a cause, and that there be other bands that tie faster 
than the band of sovereignty, kings begin to be put 
almost out of possession. 

Also, when discords, and quarrels, and factions 
are carried openly and audaciously, it is a sign the 
reverence of government is lost ; for the motions of 
the greatest persons in a government ought to be as 
the motions of the planets under " primum mobile," ^ 
according to the old opinion, which is, that every of 
them is carried swiftly by the highest motion, and 
softly in their own motion ; and therefore, when 
great ones in their own particular motion move 
violently, and as Tacitus expresseth it well, " liberius 

1 He alludes to the bad policy of Henry the Third of France, 
who espoused the part of "The League," which was formed by 
the Duke of Guise and other Catholics for the extirpation of the 
Protestant faith. When too late he discovered his error, and 
finding his own authority entirely superseded, he caused the 
Duke of Guise and the Cardinal De Lorraine, his brother, to 
be assassinated. 

2 "The primary motive power." He alludes to an imaginary 
centre of gravitation, or central body, which was supposed to set 
all the other heavenly bodies in motion. 



116 ESSAYS. 

quam ut imperantium meminissent/' ^ it is a sign the 
orbs are out of frame ; for reverence is that where- 
with princes are girt from God, who threateneth the 
dissolving thereof : " Solvam cingula regum." ^ 

So when any of the four pillars of government 
are mainly shaken or weakened (which are religion, 
justice, counsel, and treasure), men had need to pray 
for fair weather. But let us pass from this part 
of predictions (concerning which, nevertheless, more 
light may be taken from that which followeth), and 
let us speak first of the materials of seditions ; then 
of the motives of them ; and thirdly of the remedies. 

Concerning the materials of seditions, it is a thing 
well to be considered, for the surest way to prevent 
seditions (if the times do bear it), is to take away 
the matter of them ; for if there be fuel prepared, 
it is hard to tell whence the spark shall come that 
shall set it on fire. The matter of seditions is of 
two kinds, much poverty and much discontentment. 
It is certain, so many overthrown estates, so many 
votes for troubles. Lucan noteth well the state of 
Rome before the civil war : — 

*' Hinc usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore fceims, 
Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum." ^ 

1 " Too freely to remember their own rulers." 

2 "I will unloose the girdles of kings." He probably alludes 
here to the first verse of the 45th chapter of Isaiah : " Thus saith 
the Lord to his anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I have holden, 
to subdue nations before him ; and I will loose the loins of kings, 
to open before him the two-leaved gates." 

3 *' Hence devouring usury, and interest accumulating in lapse 



W, 



OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 117 

This same ^' niiiltis utile bellum," ^ is an assured 
and infallible sign of a state disposed to seditions 
and troubles ; and if this poverty and broken estate 
in the better sort be joined with a want and neces- 
sity in the mean people, the danger is imminent 
and great ; for the rebellions of the belly are the 
worst. As for discontentments, they are in the 
politic body like to humors in the natural, which 
are apt to gather a preternatural heat and to in- 
flame ; and let no prince measure the danger of 
them by this, whether they be just or unjust; for 
that were to imagine people to be too reasonable, 
who do often spurn at their own good ; nor yet by 
this, whether the griefs whereupon they rise be in 
fact great or small ; for they are the most danger- 
ous discontentments where the fear is greater than 
the feeling : " Dolendi modus, timendi non item." ^ 
Besides, in great oppressions, the same things that 
provoke the patience, do withal mate ^ the courage ; 
but in fears it is not so ; neither let any prince or 
state be secure concerning discontentments, because 
they have been often or have been long, and yet 
no peril hath ensued ; for as it is true that every 
vapor or fume doth not turn into a storm, so it is 
nevertheless true that storms, though they blow 

of time ; hence shaken credit, and warfare, profitable to the many." 
— Lucan, Phars. 1. 181. 

1 " Warfare profitable to the many." 

2 " To grief there is a limit, not so to fear." 
2 "Check," or *' daunt." 



118 ESSAYS. 

over divers times, yet may fall at last ; and, as the 
Spanish proverb noteth well, " The cord breaketh 
at the last by the weakest pull." ^ 

The causes and motives of seditions are, innova- 
tion in religion, taxes, alteration of laws and cus- 
toms, breaking of privileges, general oppression, ad- 
vancement of unworthy persons, strangers, dearths, 
disbanded soldiers, factions grown desperate, and 
whatsoever in offending people joineth and knitteth 
them in a common cause. 

For the remedies, there may be some general 
preservatives, whereof we will speak ; as for the 
just cure, it must answer to the particular disease, 
and so be left to counsel rather than rule. 

The first remedy, or prevention, is to remove, by 
all means possible, that material cause of sedition 
whereof we spake, which is, want and poverty in 
the estate ; ^ to which purpose serveth the opening 
and well-balancing of trade ; the cherishing of manu- 
factures ; the banishing of idleness ; the repressing 
of waste and excess by sumptuary laws ; ^ the im- 
provement and husbanding of the soil ; the regu- 
lating of prices of things vendible ; the moderating 
of taxes and tributes, and the like. Generally, it is 

^ This is similar to the proverb now in common use : " 'T is the 
last feather that breaks the back of the camel." 

2 The state. 

3 Though sumptuary laws are probably just in theory, they have 
been found impracticable in any other than infant states. Their 
principle, however, is certainly recognized in such countries as 
by statutory enactment discountenance gaming. Those who are 



OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 119 

to be foreseen that the population of a kingdom 
(especially if it be not mown down by wars) do not 
exceed the stock of the kingdom which should main- 
tain them ; neither is the population to be reck- 
oned only by number ; for a smaller number, that 
spend more and earn less, do wear out an estate 
sooner than a greater number that live lower and 
gather more. Therefore the multiplying of nobility 
and other degrees of quality, in an over-proportion 
to the common people, doth speedily bring a state 
to necessity ; and so doth likewise an overgrown 
clergy, for they bring nothing to the stock ; ^ and 
in like manner, when more are bred scholars than 
preferments can take off. 

It is likewise to be remembered, that, forasmuch 
as the increase of any estate must be upon the for- 
eigner ^ (for whatsoever is somewhere gotten is some- 
where lost), there be but three things which one 
nation selleth unto another ; the commodity, as 
nature yieldeth it ; the manufacture ; and the vec- 
ture, oi carriage ; so that, if these three wheels go, 
wealth will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh 
many times to pass, that, " materiam superabit 

opposed to such laws upon principle, would do well to look into 
Bernard Mandeville's "Fable of the Bees," or "Private Vices 
Public Benefits." The Romans had numerous sumptuary laws, 
and in the Middle Ages there were many enactments in this 
country against excess of expenditure upon wearing apparel and 
the pleasures of the table, 

1 He means that they do not add to the capital of the country. 

2 At the expense of foreign countries. 



120 ESSAYS. 

opus," ^ that the work and carriage is more worth 
than the material, and enricheth a state more ; as 
is notably seen in the Low Countr^^men, who have 
the best mines ^ above ground in the world. 

Above all things, good policy is to be used, that 
the treasure and moneys in a state be not gathered 
into few hands ; for, otherwise, a state may have a 
great stock, and yet starve. And money is like 
muck,^ not good except it be spread. This is done 
chiefly by suppressing, or, at the least, keeping a 
strait hand upon the devouring trades of usury, en- 
grossing ^ great pasturages, and the like. 

For removing discontentments, or, at least, the 
danger of them, there is in every state (as we 
know) two portions of subjects, the nobles and the 
commonalty. When one of these is discontent, the 
danger is not great ; for common people are of slow 
motion, if they be not excited by the greater sort ; 
and the greater sort are of small strength, except 
the multitude be apt and ready to move of them- 
selves ; then is the danger, when the greater sort 

1 "The workmanship will surpass the material." — Ovid, Met. 
B. 11. 1. 5. 

2 He alludes to the manufactures of the Low Countries. 
8 Like manure. 

* Sometimes printed engrossing, great pasturages. By engross- 
ing, is meant the trade of engrossers — men who buy up all that 
can be got of a pai'ticular commodity, then raise the price. By 
great pasturages is meant turning corn land into pasture. Of 
this practice great complaints had been made for near a century 
before Bacon's time, and a law passed to prevent it. — See Lord 
Herbert of Cherhury's History of Henry VIII. 



OF SEDITIONS AND TEOUBLES. 121 

do but wait for the troubling of the waters amongst 
the meaner, that then they may declare themselves. 
The poets feign that the rest of the gods would 
have bound Jupiter, which he hearing of, by the 
counsel of Pallas, sent for Briareus, with his hun- 
dred hands, to come in to his aid ; an emblem, no 
doubt, to show how safe it is for monarch s to make 
sure of the good-will of common people. 

To give moderate liberty for griefs and discon- 
tentments to evaporate (so it be without too great 
insolency or bravery), is a safe way ; for he that 
turneth the humors back, and maketh the wound 
bleed inwards, endangereth malign ulcers and per- 
nicious imposthumations. 

The part of Epimetheus ^ might well become 
Prometheus, in the case of discontentments, for 
there is not a better provision against them. Epi- 
metheus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last 
shut the lid, and kept Hope in the bottom of the 
vessel. Certainly, the politic and artificial nourish- 

^ The myth of Pandora's box, which is here referred to, is 
related in the Works and Days of Hesiod. Epimetheus was 
the personification of " Afterthought," while his brother Prome- 
theus represented "Forethought," or prudence. It was not 
Epimetheus that opened the box, but Pandora — "All-gift," 
wdiom, contrary to the advice of his brother, he had received at 
the hands of Mercury, and had made his wife. In their house 
stood a closed jar, which they were forbidden to open. Till her 
arrival, this had been kept untouched ; but her curiosity prompt- 
ing her to open the lid, all the evils hitherto unknown to man 
Hew out and spread over the earth, and she only shut it down 
in time to prevent the escape of Hope. 



122 ESSAYS. 

ing and entertaicing of hopes, and carrying men from 
hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against 
the poison of discontentments ; and it is a certain 
sign of a wise government and proceeding, when it 
can hold men's hearts by hopes, when it cannot by 
satisfaction ; and when it can handle things in such 
manner as no evil shall appear so peremptory, but 
that it hath some outlet of hope ; which is the less 
hard to do, because both particular persons and fac- 
tions are apt enough to flatter themselves, or at 
least to brave that which they believe not. 

Also the foresight and prevention, that there be 
no likely or fit head whereunto discontented persons 
may resort, and under whom they may join, is a 
knowm but an excellent point of caution. I under- 
stand a fit head to be one that hath greatness and 
reputation, that hath confidence with the discon- 
tented party, and upon wdiom they turn their eyes, 
and that is thought discontented in his own par- 
ticular : which kind of persons are either to be won 
and reconciled to the state, and that in a fast and 
true manner ; or to be fronted with some other of 
the same party that may oppose them, and so di- 
vide the reputation. Generally, the dividing and 
breaking of all factions and combinations that are 
adverse to the state, and setting them at distance, 
or, at least, distrust amongst themselves, is not one 
of the worst remedies ; for it is a desperate case, if 
those that hold with the proceeding of the state be 
full of discord and faction, and those that are against 
it be entire and united. 



OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 123 

I have noted, that some witty and sharp speeches, 
which have fallen from princes, have given fire to 
seditions. Csesar did himself infinite hurt in that 
speech — " Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit die- 
tare , " ^ for it did utterly cut off that hope which 
men had entertained, that he would, at one time or 
other, give over his dictatorship. Galba undid himself 
by that speech, " Legi a se militem, non emi ; " ^ for it 
put the soldiers out of hope of the donative. Probus, 
likewise, by that speech, " Si vixero, non opus erit 
amplius Romano imperio militibus ; " ^ a speech of 
great despair for the soldiers, and many the like. 
Surely princes had need, in tender matters and 
ticklish times, to beware what they say, especially 
in these short speeches, which fly abroad like darts, 
and are thought to be shot out of their secret in- 
tentions ; for as for large discourses, they are flat 
things, and not so much noted. 

1 "Sylla (lid not know his letters, and so he could not dictate." 
This saying is attributed Ly Suetonius to Julius Csesar. It is a 
play on the Latin verb dictare^ which means either "to dictate," 
or "to act the part of Dictator," according to the context. As 
this saying was presumed to be a reflection on Sylla's ignorance, 
and to imply that by reason thereof he was unable to maintain 
his power, it was concluded by the Roman people that Coesar, 
who was an elegant scholar, feeling himself subject to no such 
inability, did not intend speedily to yield the reins of power. — 
Suet. Fit. C. Jul. Cces. 77, i. and Cf. A. L. i. vii. 12. 

2 " That soldiers were levied by him, not bought." — Tac. Hist. 
i. 5. 

^ " If I live, there shall no longer be need of soldiers in the 
Roman empire." — Flav. Fojj. Fit. Prob. 20. 



124 ESSAYS. 

Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be 
without some great person, one or rather more, of 
military valor, near unto them, for the repressing of 
seditions in their beginnings ; for without that, there 
useth to be more trepidation in court upon the first 
breaking out of troubles than were fit, and the state 
runneth the danger of that which Tacitus saith : 
" Atque is habitus animorum fait, ut pessimum 
facinus auderent pauci, plures vellent, omnes pater- 
entur : " ^ but let such military persons be assured, 
and well reputed of, rather than factious and popu- 
lar ; holding also good correspondence with the other 
great men in the state, or else the remedy is worse 
than the disease. 



XVI. — OF ATHEISM. 

I HAD rather believe all the fables in the legends,^ 
and the Talmud,^ and the Alcoran, than that this 
universal frame is without a mind; and, therefore, 
God never wrought miracle to convince atheism, 

1 "And such was the state of feeling, that a few dared to per- 
petrate the worst of crimes ; more wished to do so ; all submitted 
to it." —Hist. i. 28. 

2 He probably alludes to the legends or miraculous stories of 
the saints ; such as walking with their heads off, preaching to the 
fishes, sailing over the sea on a cloak, &c. &c. 

' This is a book that contains the Jewish traditions, and the 
rabbinical explanations of the law. It is replete with wonderful 
narratives. 



OF ATHEISM. 125 

because his ordinary works convince it. It is true, 
that a little philosophy^ inclineth man's mind to 
atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men's 
minds about to religion ; for while the mind of man 
looketh upon second causes scattered, it may some- 
times rest in them, and go no further ; but when it 
beholdeth the chain of them confederate, and linked 
together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity. 
Nay, even that school which is most accused of 
atheism, doth most demonstrate religion: that is, 
the school of Leucippus,^ and Democritus,^ and 
Epicurus ; for it is a thousand times more credible 
that four mutable elements, and one immutable fifth 
essence,^ duly and eternally placed, need no God, 
than that an army of infinite small portions, or seeds 
unplaced, should have produced this order and 
beauty without a divine marshal. The Scripture 
saith, " The fool hath said in his heart, there is no 

1 This passage not improbably contains the germ of Pope's 
famous lines : — 

"A little learning is a dangerous thing ; 
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring." 

2 A philosopher of Abdera ; the first who taught the system of 
atoms, which was afterwards more fully developed by Democritus 
and Ei)icurus. 

3 He was a disciple of the last-named philosopher, and held 
the same principles ; he also denied the existence of the soul 
after death. He is considered to have been the parent of experi- 
mental philosophy, and was the first to teach, what is now con- 
firmed by science, that the Milky Way is an accumulation of 
stars. 

4 Spirit. 



126 ESSAYS. 

God ; " ^ it is not said, " The fool hath thought in his 
heart ; " so as he rather saith it by rote to himself, 
as that he would have, than that he can thoroughly 
believe it, or be persuaded of it ; for none deny there 
is a God, but those for whom it maketh ^ that there 
were no God. It appeareth in nothing more, that 
atheism is rather in the lip than in the heart of man, 
than by this, that atheists will ever be talking of that 
their opinion, as if they fainted in it within them- 
selves, and would be glad to be strengthened by the 
consent of others ; nay more, you shall have atheists 
strive to get disciples, as it fareth with other sects ; 
and, which is most of all, you shall have of them 
that will suffer for atheism, and not recant ; whereas, 
if they did truly think that there were no such thing 
as God, why should they trouble themselves ? Epi- 
curus is charged, that he did but dissemble for his 
credit's sake, when he affirmed there were blessed 
natures, but such as enjoyed themselves without 
having respect to the government of the world. 
Wherein they say he did temporize, though in secret 
he thought there was no God ; but certainly he is 
traduced, for his words are noble and divine : " Non 
Deos vulgi negare profanum ; sed vulgi opiniones 
Diis applicare profanum."^ Plato could have said 

^ Psalm xiv. 1, and liii. 1. i 

2 To whose (seeming) advantage it is ; the wish being father 
to the thought. 

3 "It is not profane to deny the existence of the deities of the 
vulgar ; but, to apply to the divinities the received notions of the 
vulgar, is profane." — Diog. Laert. x. 123. 



OF ATHEISM. 127 

no more ; and, altliough he bad the confidence to 
deny the administration, he had not the power to 
deny the nature. The Indians^ of the west have 
names for their particular gods, though they have 
no name for God; as if the heathens should have 
had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, &c., but not 
the word Deus, which shows that even those bar- 
barous people have the notion, though they have 
not the latitude and extent of it ; so that against 
atheists the very savages take part with the very 
subtlest philosophers. The contemplative atheist is 
rare ; a Diagoras,^ a Bion,^ a Lucian,* perhaps, and 
some others, and yet they seem to be more than they 
are; for that all that impugn a received religion, 
or superstition, are, by the adverse part, branded 
with the name of atheists. But the great atheists 
indeed are hypocrites, which are ever handling holy 
things, but without feeling, so as they must needs be 

1 He alludes to the native tribes of tlie continent of America and 
the West Indies. 

2 He was an Athenian philosopher, who, from the greatest 
superstition, became an avowed atheist. He was proscribed by 
the Areiopagus for speaking against the gods with ridicule and 
contempt, and is supposed to have died at Corinth. 

^ A Greek philosopher, a disciple of Theodorus the atheist, to 
whose opinions he adhered. His life was said to have been profli- 
gate, and his death superstitious. 

* Lucian ridiculed the follies and pretensions of some of the 
ancient philosophers ; but though the freedom of his style was 
such as to cause him to be censured for impiety, he hardly de- 
serves the stigma of atheism here cast upon him by the learned 
author. 



128 ESSAYS. 

cauterized in the end. The causes of atheism are: 
divisions in religion, if they be many ; for any one 
main division addeth zeal to both sides, but many 
divisions introduce atheism. Another is, scandal of 
priests, when it is come to that which St. Bernard 
saith: "Non est jam dicere, ut populus, sic sacerdos; 
quia nee sic populus, ut sacerdos."^ A third is, 
custom of profane scoifing in holy matters, which 
doth by little and little deface the reverence of 
religion : and lastly, learned times, specially with 
peace and prosperity ; for troubles and adversities 
do more bow men's minds to religion. They that 
deny a God destroy a man's nobility, for certainly 
man is of kin to the beasts by his body ; and if he 
be not of kin to God by his spirit, he is a base and 
ignoble creature. It destroys likewise magnanimity, 
and the raising of human nature ; for, take an ex- 
ample of a dog, and mark what a generosity and 
courage he will put on when he finds himself main- 
tained by a man, who, to him, is instead of a God, 
or " melior natura ; " ^ which courage is manifestly 
such as that creature, without that confidence of a 
better nature than his own, could never attain. So 

1 " It is not for us now to say, ' Like priest like people,' for 
the people are not even so had as the priest." St. Bernard, abbot 
of Clairvaux, preached the second Cnisade against the Saracens, 
and was unsparing in his censures of the sins then prevalent 
among the Christian priesthood. His writings are voluminous, 
and by some he has been considered as the latest of the fathers 
of the Church. 

2 "A superior nature." 



OF ATHEISM. 129 

man, when he resteth and assureth himself upon 
divine protection and favor, gathereth a force and 
faith, which human nature in itself could not obtain ; 
therefore, as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in 
this, that it depriveth human nature of the means 
to exalt itself above human frailty. As it is in par- 
ticular persons, so it is in nations : never was there 
such a state for magnanimity as Rome. Of this 
state hear what Cicero saith : " Quam volumus, licet, 
Patres conscripti, nos amemus, tamen nee numero 
Hispanos, nee robore Gallos, nee calliditate Poenos, 
nee artibus Grsecos, nee denique hoc ipso hujus 
gentis et terrse domestico nativoque sensu Italos 
ipsos et Latinos ; sed pietate, ac religione, atque 
h^c unsi sapienti^, quod Deorum immortalium nu- 
mine omnia regi, gubernarique perspeximus, omnes 
gentes, nationesque superavimus." ^ 

1 "We may admire ourselves, conscript fathers, as much as 
we please ; still, neither by numbers did we vanquish the Span- 
iards, nor by bodily strength the Gauls, nor by cunning the Car- 
thaginians, nor through the arts the Greeks, nor, in fine, by the 
inborn and native good sense of this our nation, and this our 
race and soil, the Italians and Latins themselves ; but through 
our devotion and our religious feeling, and this, the sole true 
wisdom, the having perceived that all things are regulated and 
governed by the providence of the immortal Gods, have we subdued 
all races and nations." — Cic. de. Rarus. Resyon. 9. 



130 ESSAYS. 



XVII. — OF SUPERSTITIOK 

It were better to have no opinion of God at all, 
than such an opinion as is unworthy of him ; for 
the one is unbelief, the other is contumely/ and cer- 
tainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity. 
Plutarch saith well to that purpose : " Surely," saith 
he, ''I had rather a great deal men should say there 
was no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they 
should say that there was one Plutarch that would 
eat his children ^ as soon as they were born," as 
the poets speak of Saturn ; and, as the contumely 
is greater towards God, so the danger is greater 
towards men. Atheism leaves a man to sense, to 
philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to reputation, 
all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue, 
though religion were not ; but superstition dismounts 
all these, and erecteth an absolute monarchy in the 
minds of men. Therefore atheism did never perturb 
states ; for it makes men wary of themselves, as 
looking no further, and we see the times inclined 
to atheism (as the time of Augustus Ca3sar) were 
civil times ; but superstition hath been the confusion 

1 The justice of this position is, perhaps, somewhat doubtful. 
The superstitious man must have some scruples, while he who 
believes not in a God (if there is such a person), needs have none. 

2 Time was personified in Saturn, and by this story was meant 
its tendency to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. — 
Plut. de Superstit. x. 



OF SUPERSTITION. 131 

of many states, and bringeth in a new primum mo- 
bile,^ that ravisheth all the spheres of government. 
The master of superstition is the people, and in all 
superstition wise men follow fools ; and arguments 
are fitted to practice in a reversed order. It was 
gravely said by some of the prelates in the Council 
of Trent,^ where the doctrine of the schoolmen 
bare great sway, that the schoolmen were like as- 
tronomers, which did feign eccentrics ^ and epicyles,* 
and such engines of orbs to save^ the phenomena, 
tliough they knew there were no such things; and, 
in like manner, that the schoolmen had framed a 
number of subtle and intricate axioms and theorems, 
to save the practice of the Church. The causes of 
superstition are, pleasing and sensual rites and cer- 
emonies ; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness ; 
over-great reverence of traditions, which cannot but 
load the Church ; the stratagems of prelates for 
their own ambition and lucre ; the favoring too much 
of good intentions, which openeth the gate to con- 
ceits and novelties ; the taking an aim at divine 
matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture 

1 The primary motive power. 

2 This Council commenced in 1545, and lasted eighteen years. 
It was convened for the purpose of opposing the rising spirit of 
Protestantism, and of discussiug and settling the disputed points 
of the Catholic faith. 

^ Irregular or anomalous movements. 

4 An epicycle is a smaller circle, whose centre is in the circum- 
ference of a greater one. 
^ To account for. 



132 ESSAYS. 

of imaginations ; and, lastly, barbarous times, espe- 
cially joined with calamities and disasters. Supersti- 
tion, without a veil, is a deformed thing ; for, as it 
addeth deformity to an ape to be so like a man, 
so the similitude of superstition to religion makes 
it the more deformed ; and as wholesome meat cor- 
rupteth to little worms, so good forms and orders 
corrupt into a number of petty observances. There 
is a superstition in avoiding superstition, when men 
think to do best if they go furthest from the super- 
stition formerly received ; therefore care would be 
had that (as it fareth in ill purgings) the good be not 
taken away with the bad, which commonly is done 
when the people is the reformer. 



XVIII. — OF TRAVEL. 

Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of educa- 
tion ; in the elder, a part of experience. He that 
travelleth into a country before he hath some en- 
trance into the language, goeth to school, and not to 
travel. That young men travel under some tutor 
or grave servant, I allow well, so that he be such a 
one that hath the language, and hath been in the 
country before ; whereby he may be able to tell 
them what things are worthy to be seen in the 
country where they go, what acquaintances they 
are to seek, what exercises or discipline the place 



OF TRAVEL. 133 

jieldeth; for else young men shall go hooded, and 
look abroad little. It is a strange thing that, in 
sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but 
f-kj and sea, men should make diaries ; but in land 
travel, wherein so much is to be observed, for the 
most part they omit it, as if chance were fitter to 
be registered than observation. Let diaries, there- 
fore, be brought in use. The things to be seen and 
observed are, the courts of princes, especially when 
they give audience to ambassadors ; the courts of 
justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of 
consistories^ ecclesiastic; the churches and monas- 
teries, with the monuments which are therein ex- 
tant ; the walls and fortifications of cities and towns ; 
and so the havens and harbors, antiquities and ruins, 
libraries, colleges, disputations, and lectures, where 
any are ; shipping and navies ; houses and gardens 
of state and pleasure, near great cities; armories, 
arsenals, magazines, exchanges, burses, warehouses, 
exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of sol- 
diers, and the like ; comedies, such whereunto the 
better sort of persons do resort; treasuries of jewels 
and robes ; cabinets and rarities ; and, to conclude, 
whatsoever is memorable in the places where they 
go, after all which the tutors or servants ought to 
make diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, masks, 
feasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and 
such shows, men need not to be put in mind of 
them ; yet they are not to be neglected. If you 

^ Synods, or councils. 



134 ESSAYS. 

will have a young man to put his travel into a little 
room, and in short time to gather much, this you 
must do : first, as was said, he must have some 
entrance into the language before he goeth; then 
he must have such a servant, or tutor, as knoweth 
the country, as was likewise said; let him carry 
with him also some card or book, describing the 
country where he travelleth, which will be a good 
key to his inquiry ; let him keep also a diary ; let 
him not stay long in one city or town, more or less, 
as the place deserveth, but not long ; nay, when he 
stayeth in one city or town, let him change his lodg- 
ing from one end and part of the town to another, 
which is a great adamant of acquaintance ; let him 
sequester himself from the company of his country- 
men, and diet in such places where there is good 
company of the nation where he travelleth ; let him, 
upon his removes from one place to another, pro- 
cure recommendation to some person of quality 
residing in the place whither he removeth, that he 
may use his favor in those things he desireth to see 
or know : thus he may abridge his travel with much 
profit. As for the acquaintance which is to be 
sought in travel, that which is most of all profitable, 
is acquaintance with the secretaries and employed 
men^ of ambassadors, for so in travelling in one 
country he shall suck the experience of many; let 
him also see and visit eminent persons in all kinds 
which are of great name abroad, that he may be 

1 At the present day called attaches. 



OF EMPIRE. 135 

able to tell how the life agreeth with tlie fame. 
For quarrels, they are with care and discretion 
to be avoided; they are commonly for mistresses, 
healths,^ place, and words ; and let a man beware 
how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrel- 
some persons, for they will engage him into their 
own quarrels. When a traveller return eth home, 
let him not leave the countries where he hath trav- 
elled altogether behind him, but maintain a cor- 
respondence by letters with those of his acquaintance 
which are of most worth ; and let his travel appear 
rather in his discourse than in his apparel or gesture, 
and in his discourse let him be rather advised in his 
answers, than forward to tell stories ; and let it 
appear that he doth not change his country manners 
for those of foreign parts, but only prick in some 
flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the 
customs of his own country. 



XIX. — OF EMPIRE. 

It is a miserable state of mind to have few things 
to desire, and many things to fear ; and yet that 
commonly is the case of kings, who, being, at the 
highest, want matter of desire,^ which makes their 

1 He probably means the refusing to join on the occasion of 
drinking healths when taking wine. 

2 Soraethinff to create excitement. 



136 ESSAYS. 

minds more languishing ; and have many repre- 
sentations of perils and shadows, which makes their 
minds the less clear; and this is one reason, also, 
of that effect which the Scripture speaketh of, " that 
the king's heart is inscrutable ; " ^ for multitude of 
jealousies, and lack of some predominant desire, 
that should marshal and put in order all the rest, 
maketh any man's heart hard to find or sound. 
Hence it comes, likewise, that princes many times 
make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon 
toys : sometimes upon a building ; sometimes upon 
erecting of an order ; sometimes upon the advancing 
of a person ; sometimes upon obtaining excellency 
in some art or feat of the hand, — as Nero for 
playing on the harp; Domitian for certainty of the 
hand with the arrow ; Commodus for playing at 
fence ; ^ Caracalla for driving chariots, and the like. 
This seemeth incredible unto those that know not 
the principle, that the mind of man is more cheered 
and refreshed by profiting in small things than by 
standing at a stay^ in great. We see, also, that 
kings that have been fortunate conquerors in their 
first years, it being not possible for them to go 
forward infinitely, but that they must have some 
check or arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter 
years to be superstitious and melancholy; as did 

^ ** The heart of kings is unsearchable." — Prov. v. 3. 

2 Commodus fought naked in public as a gladiator, and prided 
himself on his skill as a swordsman. 

3 Making a stop at, or dwelling too long upon. 



OF EMPIRE. 137 

Alexander the Great, Diocletian,^ and, in our mem- 
ory, Charles the Fifth,^ and others; for he that is 
used to go forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out 
of his own favoi', and is not the thing he was. 

To speak now of the true temper of empire, it is 
a thing rare and hard to keep, for both temper and 
distemper consist of contraries ; but it is one thing 
to mingle contraries, another to interchange them. 
The answer of Apollonius to Vespasian is full of 
excellent instruction. Vespasian asked him, ^' What 
was Nero's overthrow ? " He answered, " Nero 
could touch and tune the harp well ; but in govern- 
ment sometimes he used to wind the pins too high, 
sometimes to let them down too low." ^ And cer- 
tain it is, that nothing destroyeth authority so much 
as the unequal and untimely interchange of power 
pressed too far, and relaxed too much. 

This is true, that the wisdom of all these latter 
times in princes' affairs is rather fine deliveries, and 
shiftings of dangers and mischiefs, when they are 
near, than solid and grounded courses to keep them 
aloof; but this is but to try masteries with fortune, 
and let men beware how they neglect and suffer 
matter of trouble to be prepared. For no man can 
forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come. 

1 After a prosperous reign of twenty-one years, Diocletian abdi- 
cated the tlirone, and retired to a private station. 

2 After having reigned thirty-five years, he abdicated the thrones 
of Spain and Germany, and passed the last two years of his life in 
retirement at St. Just, a convent in Estreraadura. 

3 Philost. vit. Apoll. Tyan. v. 28. 



138 ESSAYS. 

The difficulties in princes' business are many and 
great; but the greatest difficulty is often in their 
own mind. For it is common with princes (saith 
Tacitus) to will contradictories : " Sunt plerumque 
regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se contrariee ; " ^ 
for it is the solecism of power to think to command 
the end, and yet not to endure the mean. 

Kings have to deal with their neighbors, their 
wives, their children, their prelates or clergy, their 
nobles, their second nobles or gentlemen, their mer- 
chants, their commons, and their men of war; and 
from all these arise dangers, if care and circum- 
spection be not used. 

First, for their neighbors, there can no general 
rule be given (the occasions are so variable), save 
one which ever holdeth ; which is, that princes do 
keep due sentinel, that none of their neighbors do 
overgrow so (by increase of territory, by embracing 
of trade, by approaches, or the like), as they be- 
come more able to annoy them than they were ; and 
this is generally the work of standing counsels to 
foresee and to hinder it. During that triumvirate 
of kings. King Henry the Eighth of England, Fran- 
cis the First, King of France,^ and Charles the 
Fifth, Emperor, there was such a watch kept that 

1 "The desires of monarchs are generally impetuous and conflict- 
ing among themselves. " — Quoted rightly, A. L. ii. xxii. 5, from 
Ballust (B. J. 113). 

2 He was especially the rival of the Emperor Charles tlie Fifth, 
and was one of the most distinguished sovereigns that ever ruled 
over France. 



OF EMPIEE. 139 

none of the three could win a palm of ground, but 
the other two would straightways balance it, cither 
by confederation, or, if need were, by a war; and 
would not, in any wise, take up peace at interest; 
and the like was done by that league (which Guic- 
ciardini^ saith was the security of Italy) made 
between Ferdinando, King of Naples, Lorenzius 
Medicis, and Ludovicus Sforza, potentates, the one 
of Florence, the other of Milan. Neither is the 
opinion of some of the schoolmen to be received, 
that a war cannot justly be made, but upon a prece- 
dent injury or provocation ; for there is no question, 
but a just fear of an imminent danger, though there 
be no blow given, is a lawful cause of a w^ar. 

For their wives, there are cruel examples of them. 
Livia is infamed^ for the poisoning of her husband; 
Roxolana, Solyman's wife,^ was the destruction of 

1 An eminent historian of Florence. His great work, which 
is here alluded to, is, " The History of Italy during his own 
Time," which is considered one of the most valuable productions 
of that age. 

2 Spoken badly of. Livia was said to have hastened the death 
of Augustus, to prepare the accession of her son Tiberius to the 
throne. 

3 Solyman the Magnificent was one of the most celebrated of 
the Ottoman monarchs. He took the Isle of Ehodes from the 
Knights of St. John. He also subdued Moldavia, Wallachia, 
and the greatest part of Hungary, and took from the Persians 
Georgia and Bagdad. He died A. D. 1566. His wife Roxolana 
(who was originally a slave called Rosa or Hazathya), with the 
Pasha Rustan, conspired against the life of his son Mustapha, and 
by their instigation this distinguished prince was strangled in his 
father's presence. 



140 ESSAYS. 

that renowned prince, Sultan Mustapha, and other- 
wise troubled his house and succession ; Edward the 
Second of England's Queen ^ had the principal hand 
in the deposing and murder of her husband. 

This kind of danger is then to be feared chiefly 
when the wives have plots for the raising of their 
own children, or else that they be advoutresses.^ 

For their children, the tragedies likewise of dan- 
gers from them have been many ; and generally the 
entering of fathers into suspicion of their children 
hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction of 
Mustapha (that w^e named before) was so fatal to 
Solyman's line, as the succession of the Turks from 
Solyman until this day is suspected to be untrue, 
and of strange blood ; for that Selymus the Second 
w^as thought to be sui:>posititious.^ The destruction 
of Crispus, a young prince of rare towardness, by 
Constantinus the Great, his father, was in like man- 
ner fatal to his house ; for both Constantinus and 
Constance, his sons, died violent deaths ; and Con- 
stantius, his other son, did little better, who died 
indeed of sickness, but after that Julianus had taken 
arms against him. The destruction of Demetrius,* 
son to Philip the Second of Macedon, turned upon 

1 The infamous Isabella of Anjou. 

2 Adulteresses. 

3 He, however, distinguished himself by taking Cyprus from 
the Venetians in the year 1571. 

* He was falsely accused by his brother Perseus of attempting to 
dethrone his father, on which he was put to death by the order of 
Philip, B. C. 180. 



OF EMPIRE. 141 

the father, who died of repentance. And many like 
examples there are; bnt few or none where the 
fathers had good by such distrust, except it were 
where the sons were up in open arms against them ; 
as was Selymus the First against Bajazet, and the 
three sons of Henry the Second, King of England. 

For their prelates, when they are proud and great, 
there is also danger from them; as it was in the 
times of Anselmus ^ and Thomas Becket, Archbish- 
ops of Canterbury, who, with their crosiers, did 
almost try it with the king's sword ; and yet they 
had to deal with stout and haughty kings ; William 
Rufus, Henry the First, and Henry the Second. 
The danger is not from that state, but where it hath 
a dependence of foreign authority; or where the 
churchmen come in and are elected, not by the 
collation of the King, or particular patrons, but by 
the people. 

For their nobles, to keep them at a distance it is 
not amiss ; but to depress them may make a king 
more absolute, but less safe, and less able to perform 
anything that he desires. I have noted it in my 
History of King Henry the Seventh of England, 
who depressed his nobility, whereupon it came to 
pass that his times were full of difficulties and 

1 Anselm was Archbishop of Canterbury in the time of William 
Rufus and Henry the First. Though his private life was pious 
and exemplary, through his rigid assertion of the rights of the 
clergy he was continually embroiled with his sovereign, Thomas 
a Becket pursued a similar course, but with still greater violence. 



142 ESSAYS. 

troubles; for the nobility, though they continued 
loyal unto him, yet did they not cooperate with 
him in his business ; so that, in effect, he was fain 
to do all things himself. 

For their second nobles, there is not much danger 
from them, being a body dispersed. They may 
sometimes discourse high, but that doth little hurt ; 
besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher nobil- 
ity, that they grow not too potent ; and, lastly, being 
the most immediate in authority with the common 
people, they do best temper popular commotions. 

For their merchants, they are ^' vena porta : " ^ 
and if they flourish not, a kingdom may have good 
limbs, but will have empty veins, and nourish little. 
Taxes and imposts upon them do seldom good to 
the king's revenue, for that which he wins ^ in the 
hundred ^ he loseth in the shire ; the particular rates 
being increased, but the total bulk of trading rather 
decreased. 

For their commons, there is little danger from 
them, except it be where they have great and potent 
heads ; or where you meddle with the point of relig- 
ion, or their customs, or means of life. 

For their men of war, it is a dangerous state 

1 The great vessel that conveys the blood to the liver, after it 
has been enriched by the absorption of nutriment from the intes- 
tines. 

2 This is an expression similar to our proverb, " Penny- wise 
and pound-foolish." 

3 A subdivision of the shire. 



OF COUNSEL. 143 

where they live and remain in a body, and are used 
to donatives ; whereof we see examples in the Jani- 
zaries ^ and Praetorian bands of Rome ; but train- 
ings of men, and arming them in several places, 
and under several commanders, and without dona- 
tives, are things of defence and no danger. 

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause 
good or evil times ; and which have much venera- 
tion, but no rest. All precepts concerning kings 
are in effect comprehended in those two remem- 
brances, " Memento quod es homo ; '^ and " Me- 
mento quod es Deus," ^ or " vice Dei ; " ^ the one 
bridleth their power and the other their will. 



XX. — OF COUNSEL. 

The greatest trust between man and man is the 
trust of giving counsel ; for in other confidences 
men commit the parts of life, their lands, their goods, 
their children, their credit, some particular affair ; 
but to such as they make their counsellors they 
com^mit the whole ; by how much the more they 

1 The Janizaries were the body-guards of the Turkish sultans, 
and enacted the same disgraceful part in making and unmaking 
monarchs, as the mercenary Prfetorian guards of the Roman 
Empire. 

2 " Remember that thou art a man." 
8 "Remember that thou art a God." 
^ ** The representative of God." 



144 ESSAYS. 

are obliged to all faith and integrity. The wisest 
princes need not think it any diminution to their 
greatness, or derogation to their sufficiency to rely 
upon counsel. God himself is not without, but hath 
made it one of the great names of his blessed Son, 
" The Counsellor." ^ Solomon hath pronounced that, 
" in counsel is stability." ^ Things will have their 
first or second agitation : if they be not tossed upon 
the arguments of counsel, they will be tossed upon 
the waves of fortune, and be full of inconstancy, 
doing and undoing, like the reeling of a drunken 
man. Solomon's son ^ found the force of counsel, 
as his father saw the necessity of it ; for tlie beloved 
kingdom of God was first rent and broken by ill 
counsel ; upon which counsel there are set for our 
instruction the two marks whereby bad counsel is 
forever best discerned, that it was young counsel for 
the persons, and violent counsel for the matter. 

The ancient times do set forth in figure both the 
incorporation and inseparable conjunction of counsel 
with kings, and the wise and politic use of counsel 
by kings ; the one, in that they say Jupiter did 
marry Metis, which signifieth counsel ; whereby they 
intend that sovereignty is married to counsel ; the 

1 Isaiah ix. 6 : " His name shall be called, Wonderful, Coun- 
sellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of 
Peace." 

2 Prov. XX. 18: "Every purpose is established by counsel: 
and with good advice make war," 

3 The wicked Kehoboam, from whom the ten tribes of Israel 
revolted, and elected Jeroboam their king. — See 1 Kings xii. 



OF COUNSEL. 145 

other in that which followeth, which was thus : they 
say, after Jupiter was married to Metis, she con- 
ceived by him and was with child; but Jupiter 
suffered her not to stay till she brought forth, but 
eat her up ; whereby he became himself with child, 
and was delivered of Pallas armed, out of his head.^ 
Which monstrous fable containeth a secret of empire, 
how kings are to make use of their council of state ; 
that first, they ought to refer matters unto them, 
which is the first begetting or impregnation; but 
when they are elaborate, moulded, and shaped in 
the womb of their counsel, and grow ripe and ready 
to be brought forth, that then they suffer not their 
council to go through with the resolution and di- 
rection, as if it depended on them ; but take the mat- 
ter back into their own hands, and make it appear 
to the world, that the decrees and final directions 
(which, because they come forth with prudence and 
power, are resembled to Pallas armed), proceeded 
from themselves ; and not only from their authority, 
but (the more to add reputation to themselves) 
from their head and device. 

Let us now speak of the inconveniences of coun- 
sel, and of the remedies. The inconveniences that 
have been noted in calling and using counsel are 
three : first, the revealing of affairs, whereby they 
become less secret ; secondly, the weakening of the 
authority of princes, as if they were less of them- 
selves; thirdly, the danger of being unfaithfully 

1 Hesiod, Theog. 886. 
10 



146 ESSAYS. 

counselled, and more for the good of them that 
counsel than of him that is counselled ; for which 
inconveniences, the doctrine of Italy, and practice of 
France, in some kings' times, hath introduced cabinet 
councils ; a remedy worse than the disease.^ 

As to secrecy, princes are not bound to commu- 
nicate all matters with all counsellors, but may 
extract and select; neither is it necessary that he 
that consulteth what he should do, should declare 
what he will do ; but let princes beware that the 
unsecreting of their affairs comes not from them- 
selves ; and, as for cabinet councils, it may be their 
motto, " Plenus rimarum sum : " ^ one futile person, 
that maketh it his glory to tell, will do more hurt 
than many that know it their duty to conceal. It 
is true, there be some affairs which require extreme 
secrecy, which will hardly go beyond one or two 
persons besides the king. Neither are those coun- 
sels unprosperous ; for, besides the secrecy, they 
commonly go on constantly in one spirit of direction 
without distraction ; but then it must be a prudent 
king, such as is able to grind with a hand-mill ; ^ 
and those inward counsellors had need also to be 
wise men, and especially true and trusty to the 
king's ends; as it was with King Henry the 

1 The political world has not been convinced of the truth of 
this doctrine of Lord Bacon ; as cabinet councils are now held 
probably by every sovereign in Europe. 

2 " I am full of outlets." — Ter. Eun. I. ii. 25. 

8 That is, without a comx)licated machinery of government. 



OF COUNSEL. 147 

Seventh of England, who, in his greatest business, 
imparted himself to none, except it were to 
Morton^ and Fox.^ 

For weakening of authority, the fable ^ showeth 
the remedy; nay, the majesty of kings is rather 
exalted than diminished when they are in the chair 
of council ; neither was there ever prince bereaved 
of his dependencies by his council, except where 
there hath been either an over-greatness in one 
counsellor, or an over-strict combination in divers, 
which are things soon found and holpen.^ 

For the last inconvenience, that men will counsel 
with an eye to themselves ; certainly, *^ non inveniet 
fidem super terram," ^ is meant of the nature of 
times,^ and not of all particular persons. There be 

1 Master of the Rolls and Privy Councillor under Henry VI., 
to whose cause he faithfully adhered. Edward IV. promoted 
him to the See of Ely, and made him Lord Chancellor, He was 
elevated to the See of Canterbury by Henry VII., and in 1493 
received the Cardinal's hat. 

2 Privy Councillor and Keeper of the Privy Seal to Henry VII., 
and, after enjoying several bishoprics in succession, translated 
to the See of Winchester. He was an able statesman, and highly 
valued by Henry VII. On the accession of Henry VIII. his 
political influence was counteracted by Wolsey ; on which he 
retired to his diocese, and devoted the rest of his life to acts of 
piety and munificence. 

3 Before mentioned, relative to Jupiter and Metis. 
^ Remedied. 

^ "He shall not find faith upon the earth." Lord Bacon 
probably alludes to the words of our Saviour, St. Luke xviii. 8 : 
"When the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith upon the 
earth ? " 

^ He means to say, that this remark was only applicable to a 



148 ESSAYS. 

that are in nature faithful and sincere, and plain 
and direct, not crafty and involved: let princes, 
above all, draw to themselves such natures. Be- 
sides, counsellors are not commonly so united, but 
that one counsellor keepeth sentinel over another ; 
so that if any do counsel out of faction or private 
ends, it commonly comes to the king's ear ; but the 
best remedy is, if princes know their counsellors, as 
well as their counsellors know them : — 

" Principis est virtus maxima nosse siios." ^ 

And on the other side, counsellors should not be too 
speculative into their sovereign's person. The true 
composition of a counsellor is, rather to be skilful 
in their master's business than in his nature ; ^ for 
then he is like to advise him, and not to feed his 
humor. It is of singular use to princes, if they 
take the opinions of their council both separately 
and together; for private opinion is more free, but 
opinion before others is more reverend. In private, 
men are more bold in their own humors; and in 
consort, men are more obnoxious^ to others' hu- 
mors ; therefore it is good to take both ; and of the 
inferior sort rather in private, to preserve freedom ; 
of the greater, rather in consort, to preserve re- 
spect. It is in vain for princes to take counsel 

particular time, namely, the coming of Christ. The period of 
the destruction of Jerusalem was probably referred to. 

1 " 'T is the especial virtue of a prince to know his own men." 

2 In his disposition, or inclination. 

3 Liable to opposition from. 



OF COUNSEL. 149 

concerning matters, if they take no counsel like- 
wise concerning persons ; for all matters are as dead 
images; and the life of the execution of affairs 
resteth in the good choice of persons. Neither 
is it enough to consult concerning persons, "secun- 
dum genera," ^ as in an idea or mathematical de- 
scription, what the kind and character of the person 
should be; for the greatest errors are committed, 
and the most judgment is shown, in the choice of 
individuals. It was truly said, "Optimi consiliarii 
mortui : " ^ " books will speak plain when coun- 
sellors blanch ; " ^ therefore it is good to be con- 
versant in them, specially the books of such as 
themselves have been actors upon the stage. 

The councils at this day in most places are but 
familiar meetings, where matters are rather talked 
on than debated ; and they run too swift to the 
order or act of council. It were better that in 
causes of weight, the matter were propounded one 
day and not spoken to till the next day ; " In nocte 
consilium ; " * so was it done in the commission of 

1 "According to classes," or, as we vulgarly say, "in the 
lump." Lord Bacon means that princes are not, as a matter of 
course, to take counsellors merely on the presumption of talent, 
from their rank and station ; but that, on the contrary, they are 
to select such as are tried men, and with regard to whom there 
can be no mistake. 

2 "The best counsellors are the dead." 
2 "Are afraid " to open their mouths. 

* "Night-time for counsel." — ii/ vvkt\ ^ovK-fj. Gaisf. Par. 
Or. B. 359. 



150 ESSAYS. 

union ^ between England and Scotland, which was 
a grave and orderly assembly. I commend set 
days for petitions; for both it gives the suitors 
more certainty for their attendance, and it frees 
the meetings for matters of estate, that they may 
" hoc agere." ^ In choice of committees for ripen- 
inof business for the council, it is better to choose 
indifferent persons, than to make an indifferency 
by putting in those that are strong on both sides. 
I commend, also, standing commissions ; as for trade, 
for treasure, for war, for suits, for some provinces; 
for where there be divers particular councils, and 
but one council of estate (as it is in Spain), they 
are in effect no more than standing commissions, 
save that they have greater authority. Let such 
as are to inform councils out of their particular 
professions (as lawyers, seamen, mintmen, and the 
like) be first heard before committees ; and then, 
as occasion serves, before the council ; and let them 
not come in multitudes, or in a tribunitious ^ man- 
ner ; for that is to clamor councils, not to inform 
them. A long table and a square table, or seats 
about the walls, seem things of form, but are things 
of substance ; for at a long table a few at the upper 
end, in effect, sway all the business; but in the 

1 On the accession of James the Sixth of Scotland to the 
throne of England in 1603. 

2 A phrase much in use with the Eomans, signifying, "to 
attend to the business in hand." 

3 A tribunitial or declamatory manner. 



OF DELAYS. 151 

otlier form there is more use of the counsellors' 
opinions that sit lower. A king, when he presides 
in council, let him beware how he opens his own 
inclination too much in that which he propoundeth ; 
for else counsellors will but take the wind of him, 
and, instead of giving free counsel, will sing him a 
song of " placebo." ^ 



XXL — OF DELAYS. 

Fortune is like the market, where, many times, 
if you can stay a little, the price will fall ; and again, 
it is sometimes like Sibylla's ofFer,^ which at first 

1 " I '11 follow the bent of your humor." 

2 The Sibyl alluded to here is the Curaseau, the most cele- 
brated, who offered the Sibylline Books for sale to Tarquin the 
Proud. 

**At this time, an unknown woman appeared at court, loaded 
with nine volumes, which she offered to sell, but at a very con- 
siderable price. Tarquin refusing to give it, she withdrew and 
burnt three of the nine. Some time after she returned to court, 
and demanded the same price for the remaining six. This made 
her looked upon as a mad woman, and she was driven away with 
scorn. Nevertheless, having burnt the half of what were left, she 
came a third time, and demanded for the remaining three the 
same price which she had asked for the whole nine. The novelty 
of such a proceeding, made Tarquin curious to have the books 
examined. They were put, therefore, into the hands of the augurs, 
who, finding them to be the oracles of the Sybil of Cumce, declared 
them to be an invaluable treasure. Upon this the woman was paid 
the sum she demanded, and she soon after disappeared, having first 
exhorted the Romans to preserve her books with care." — Hookcs 
Roman History. 



152 ESSAYS. 

ofFereth the commodity at full, then consumeth part 
and part, and still holdeth up the price ; for occasion 
(as it is in the common verse) "turneth a bald 
noddle,^ after she hath presented her locks in front, 
and no hold taken ; " or, at least, turneth the handle 
of the bottle first to be received, and after the belly, 
which is hard to clasp. ^ There is surely no greater 
wisdom than well to time the beginnings and onsets 
of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once 
seem light; and more dangers have deceived men 
than forced them ; nay, it were better to meet some 
dangers half-way, though they come nothing near, 
than to keep too long a watch upon their ap- 
proaches ; for if a man watch too long, it is odds 
he will fall asleep. On the other side, to be de- 
ceived with too long shadows (as some have been 
when the moon was low, and shone on their enemies' 
back), and so to shoot off before the time ; or to 
teach dangers to come on by over early buckling 
towards them, is another extreme. The ripeness or 
unripeness of the occasion (as we said) must ever be 
well weighed ; and generally it is good to commit the 
beginnings of all great actions to Argus with his hun- 
dred eyes, and the ends to Briareus with his hundred 
hands, first to watch and then to speed; for the 
helmet of Pluto,^ which maketh the politic man go 
invisible, is secrecy in the council, and celerity in 

1 Bald head. He alludes to the common saying: "Take time 
hy the forelock," 

2 Phaed. viii. 3 Hom. II. v. 845. 



OF CUNNING. 153 

the execution ; for wlien things are once come to 
the execution, there is no secrecy comparable to 
celerity ; like the motion of a bullet in the air, 
which flieth so swift as it outruns the eye. 



XXII. — OF CUNXING. 

We take cunning for a sinister, or crooked wis- 
dom ; and, certainly, there is great difference between 
a cunning man and a wise man, not only in point of 
honesty, but in point of ability. There be that can 
pack the cards,^ and yet cannot play well ; so there 
are some that are good in canvasses and factions, 
that are otherwise weak men. Again, it is one 
thing to understand persons, and another thing to 
understand matters ; for many are perfect in men's 
humors that are not greatly capable of the real part 
of business, which is the constitution of one that 
hath studied men more than books. Such men are 
fitter for practice than for counsel, and they are 
good but in their own alley. Turn them to new 
men, and they have lost their aim ; so as the old 
rule, to know a fool from a wise man, "Mitte am- 
bos nudos ad ignotos, et videbis," ^ doth scarce hold 

1 Packing the cards is an admirable illustration of the author's 
meaning. It is a cheating exploit, by which knaves, who, per- 
haps, are inferior players, insure to themselves the certainty of 
good hands. 

2 "Send them both naked among strangers, and then you will 



154 ESSAYS. 

for them ; and, because these cunning men are like 
haberdashers ^ of small wares, it is not amiss to set 
forth their shop. 

It is a point of cunning to wait upon ^ him with 
whom you speak with your eye, as the Jesuits give 
it in precept ; for there be many wise men that have 
secret hearts and transparent countenances ; yet this 
would be done with a demure abasing of your eye 
sometimes, as the Jesuits also do use. 

Another is, that when you have any thing to obtain 
of present dispatch, you entertain and amuse the 
party with whom you deal with some other discourse, 
that he be not too much awake to make objections. 
I knew a counsellor and secretary that never came 
to Queen Elizabeth of England, with bills to sign, 
but he would always first put her into some discourse 
of estate,^ that she might the less mind the bills. 

The like surprise may be made by moving things * 
when the party is in haste, and cannot stay to con- 
sider advisedly of that is moved. 

If a man would cross a business that he doubts 
some other would handsomely and effectually move, 
let him pretend to wish it well, and move it himself, 
in such sort as may foil it. 

1 This word is used here in its primitive sense of ''retail deal- 
ers." It is said to have been derived from a custom of the Flem- 
ings, who first settled in this country in the fourteenth century, 
stopping the passengers as they passed their shops, and saying to 
them, "Haber das, herr?"— "Will you take this, sir?" The 
word is now generally used as synonymous with linen-draper. 

2 To watch. 

3 State. * Discussing matters. 



OF CUNNING. 155 

The breaking off in the midst of that one was 
about to say, as if he took himself up, breeds a 
greater appetite in him with whom you confer to 
know more. 

And because it works better when any thing 
seemeth to be gotten from you by question than if 
you offer it of yourself, you may lay a bait for a 
question, by showing another visage and counte- 
nance than you are wont ; to the end, to give occa. 
sion for the party to ask what the matter is of the 
change, as Nehemiah^ did : " And I had not, before 
that time, been sad before the king." 

In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is 
good to break the ice by some whose words are of 
less weight, and to reserve the more weighty voice 
to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked 
the question upon the other's speech; as Narcissus 
did, in relathig to Claudius the marriage ^ of Messa- 
lina and Silius. 

In things that a man would not be seen in himself, 
it is a point of cunning to borrow the name of the 

1 He refers to the occasion when Nehemiah, on presenting the 
wine, as cup-bearer to King Artaxerxes, appeared sorrowful, and, 
on being asked the reason of it, entreated the king to allow Jeru- 
salem to be rebuilt. — Nehemiah ii. 1. 

2 This can hardly be called a marriage, as, at the time of the 
intrigue, Messalina was the wife of Claudius ; but she forced Cains 
Silius, of whom she was deeply enamored, to divorce his own wife, 
that she herself might enjoy his society. The intrigue was dis- 
closed to Claudius by Narcissus, who was his freedman, and the 
pander to his infamous vices ; on which Silius was put to death. 
Vide Tac. Ann. xi. 29, seq. 



156 ESSAYS. 

world ; as to say, " The world says," or " There is a 
speech abroad." 

I knew one, tliat when he wrote a letter, he would 
put that which was most material in a postscript, as 
if it had been a by-matter. 

I knew another, that when he came to have 
speech,^ he would pass over that that he intended 
most ; and go forth and come back again, and speak 
of it as a thing that he had almost forgot. 

Some procure themselves to be surprised at such 
times as it is like the party that they work upon will 
suddenly come upon them, and to be found with a 
letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they 
are not accustomed, to the end they may be apposed 
of'^ those things which of themselves they are de- 
sirous to utter. 

It is a point of cunning to let fall those words 
in a man's own name, which he would have another 
man learn and use, and thereupon take advantage. 
I knew two that were competitors for the secretary's 
place in Queen Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good 
quarter ^ between themselves, and would confer one 
with another upon the business ; and the one of 
them said, that to be a secretary in the declination 
of a monarchy was a ticklish thing, and that he did 
not affect it ; * the other straight caught up those 
words, and discoursed with divers of his friends, that 
he had no reason to desire to be secretary in the 

1 To speak in his turn. 2 gg questioned upon. 

^ Kept on good terms. * Desire it. 



OF CUNNING. 157 

declination of a monarchy. The first man took hold 
of it, and found means it was told the queen, who, 
hearing of a declination of a monarchy, took it so ill, 
as she would never after hear of the other's suit. 

There is a cunning, which we in England call 
" the turning of the cat in the pan ; " which is, 
when that which a man says to another, he lays it 
as if another had said it to him ; and, to say truth, 
it is not easy, when such a matter passed between 
two, to make it appear from which of them it first 
moved and began. 

It is a way that some men have, to glance and 
dart at others by justifying themselves by nega- 
tives ; as to say, " This I do not ; " as Tigellinus 
did towards Burrhus : " Se non diversas spes, sed 
incolumitatem imperatoris simpliciter spectare." ^ 

Some have in readiness so many tales and stories, 
as there is nothing they would insinuate, but they 
can wrap it into a tale ; ^ which serveth both to 
keep themselves more in guard, and to make others 
carry it with more pleasure. 

It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape 
the answer he would have in his own words and 
propositions; for it makes the other party stick the 
less. 

1 **That he did not have various hopes in view, hut solely the 
safety of the emperor." Tigellinus was the profligate minister 
of Nero, and Africanus Burrhus was the chief of the Praetorian 
Guards. — Tac. Ann. xiv. 57. 

2 As Nathan did, when he reproved David for his criminality 
with Bathsheba. — 2 Samuel xii. 



158 ESSAYS. 

It is strange how long some men will lie in wait 
to speak somewhat they desire to say ; and how far 
about they will fetch/ and how many other matters 
they will beat over to come near it. It is a thing 
of great patience, but yet of much use. 

A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth 
many times surprise a man, and lay him open. Like 
to him, that, having changed his name, and walking 
in Paul's,^ another suddenly came behind him and 
called him by his true name, whereat straightways 
he looked back. 

But these small wares and petty points of cun- 
ning are infinite, and it were a good deed to make 
a list of them ; for that nothing doth more hurt in a 
state than that cunning men pass for wise. 

But certainly, some there are that know the re- 
sorts^ and falls ^ of business that cannot sink into 
the main of it ; ^ like a house that hath convenient 
stairs and entries, but never a fair room. There- 
fore you shall see them find out pretty looses^ in 
the conclusion, but are noways able to examine or 
debate matters j and yet commonly they take ad- 
vantage of their inability, and would be thought 
wits of direction. Some build rather upon the 

1 Use indirect stratagems. 

2 He alludes to the old Cathedral of St. Paul, in London, Avhich, 
in the sixteenth centur}*, was a common lounge for idlers. 

^ Movements, or sj)rings. 
* Chances, or vicissitudes. 
fi Enter deeply into. 
^ Faults, or weak points. 



OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SELF. 159 

abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting 
tricks upon them, than upon soundness of their own 
proceedings ; but Solomon saith : " Prudens advertit 
ad gressus suos ; stultus divertit ad dolos." ^ 



XXIIL— OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SELF. 

An ant is a wise creature for itself, but it is a 
shrewd '^ thing in an orchard or garden ; and cer- 
tainly, men that are great lovers of themselves waste 
the public. Divide with reason between self-love 
and society ; and be so true to thyself as thou be 
not false to others, specially to thy king and coun- 
try. It is a poor centre of a man's actions, himself. 
It is right earth ; for that only stands fast upon his 
own centre ; ^ whereas all things that have affinity 
with the heavens, move upon the centre of another, 
which they benefit. The referring of all to a man's 
self is more tolerable in a sovereign prince, because 
themselves are not only themselves, but their good 
and evil is at the peril of the public fortune ; but 
it is a desperate evil in a servant to a prince, or 

1 " The wise man gives heed to his own footsteps ; the fool tum- 
eth aside to tlie snare." No doubt he here alludes to Ecclesiastes 
xiv. 2, whicli passage is thus rendered in our version : "The wise 
man's eyes are in his head ; but the fool walketh in darkness." 

'^ Mischievous. 

^ It must be remembered that Bacon was not a fororer of the 
Copernican system. 



160 ESSAYS. 

a citizen in a republic ; for whatsoever affairs pass 
such a man's hands, he crooketh them to his own 
ends, w^hich must needs be often eccentric to the 
ends of his master or state. Therefore, let princes 
or states choose such servants as have not this mark ; 
except they mean their service should be made but 
the accessary. That which maketh the effect more 
pernicious is, that all proportion is lost. It were 
disproportion enough for the servant's good to be 
preferred before the master's; but yet it is a greater 
extreme, when a little good of the servant shall carry 
things against a great good of the master. And 
yet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, am- 
bassadors, generals, and other false and corrupt 
servants ; which set a bias upon their bowl, of their 
own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of 
their master's great and important affairs ; and, for 
the most part, the good such servants receive is 
after the model of their own fortune ; but the hurt 
they sell for that good is after the model of their 
master's fortune. And certainly, it is the nature of 
extreme self-lovers, as they will set a house on fire, 
an it were but to roast their eggs ; and yet these 
men many times hold credit with their masters, 
because their study is but to please them, and profit 
themselves ; and for either respect they will abandon 
the good of their affairs. 

Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches 
thereof, a depraved thing. It is the "svisdom of rats, 
that will be sure to leave a house somewhat before 



OF INNOVATIONS. 161 

it fall ; it is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out 
the badger who digged and made room for him ; it 
is the wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when 
they would devour. But that which is specially to 
be noted is, that those which (as Cicero says of 
Pompey) are "sui amantes, sine rivali,"^ are many 
times unfortunate ; and whereas they have all their 
times sacrificed to themselves, they become in the 
end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of for- 
tune, whose wings they thought by their self-wisdom 
to have pinioned. 



XXIV. — OF INXOVATIONS. 

As the births of living creatures at first are ill- 
shapen, so are all innovations, which are the births 
of time ; yet, notwithstanding, as those that first 
bring honor into their family are commonly more 
worthy than most that succeed, so the first prece- 
dent (if it be good) is seldom attained by imitation ; 
for ill to man's nature as it stands perverted, hath 
a natural motion strongest in continuance, but good, 
as a forced motion, strongest at first. Surely, every 
medicine 2 is an innovation, and he that will not 
apply new remedies must expect new evils, for time 
is the greatest innovator; and if time, of course, 

1 "Lovers of themselves without a rival." — Ad. Qu. Fr. iii. 8. 
^ Remedy. 



162 ESSAYS. 

alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel 
shall not alter them to the better, what shall be 
the end ? It is true, that what is settled by custom, 
though it be not good, yet, at least, it is fit; and 
those things which have long gone together, are, 
as it were, confederate within themselves ; ^ whereas 
new things piece not so well ; but, though they help 
by their utility, yet they trouble by their in confor- 
mity ; besides, they are like strangers, more admired 
and less favored. All this is true, if time stood still, 
which, contrariwise, moveth so round, that a froward 
retention of custom is as turbulent a thing as an 
innovation ; and they that reverence too much old 
times are but a scorn to the new. It were good, 
therefore, that men in their innovations would follow 
the example of time itself, which indeed innovateth 
greatly, but quietly, and by degrees scarce to be 
perceived; for, otherwise, whatsoever is new is un- 
looked for, and ever it mends some and pairs ^ other ; 
and he that is holpen, takes it for a fortune, and 
thanks the time ; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, 
and imputeth it to the author. It is good, also, not 
to try experiments in states, except the necessity 
be urgent, or the utility evident ; and well to beware 
that it be the reformation that draweth on the 
change, and not the desire of change that pretendeth 
the reformation ; and lastly, that the novelty, though 
it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect,^ and, as 

1 Adapted to each other. 2 Injures or impairs. 

3 A thing suspected. 



OF DISPATCH. 163 

the Scripture saith, "That we make a stand upon 
the ancient way, and then look about us, and dis- 
cover what is the straight and right way, and so 
to walk in it.^ 



XXV. — OF DISPATCH. 

Affected dispatch is one of the most dangerous 
things to business that can be ; it is like that which 
the physicians call predigestion, or hasty digestion, 
which is sure to fill the body full of crudities, and 
secret seeds of diseases. Therefore, measure not 
dispatch by the times of sitting, but by the advance- 
ment of the business ; and as in races, it is not the 
large stride, or high lift, that makes the speed, so 
in business, the keeping close to the matter, and not 
taking of it too much at once, procureth dispatch. 
It is the care of some, only to come off speedily for 
the time, or to contrive some false periods of busi- 
ness, because they may seem men of dispatch ; but 
it is one thing to abbreviate by contracting,^ another 
by cutting off; and business so handled at several 
sittings, or meetings, goeth commonly backward and 
forward in an unsteady manner. I knew a wise 

1 He probably alludes to Jeremiah vi. 16: "Thus saith the 
Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, 
where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest 
for your souls." 

2 That is, by means of good management. 



164 ESSAYS. 

man ^ that had it for a byword, when he saw men 
hasten to a conclusion, " Sta}^ a little, that we may 
make an end the sooner." 

On the other side, true dispatch is a rich thing ; 
for time is the measure of business, as money is of 
wares ; and business is bought at a dear hand where 
there is small dispatch. The Spartans and Span- 
iards have been noted to be of small dispatch : '' ]Mi 
venga la muerte de Spagna ; " " Let my death come 
from Spain ; " for then it will be sure to be long 
in coming. 

Give good hearing to those that give the first 
information in business, and rather direct them in 
the beginning, than interrupt them in the continu- 
ance of their speeches ; for he that is put out of 
his own order w^ill go forward and backward, and 
be more tedious while he waits upon his memory, 
than he could have been if he had gone on in 
his own course ; but sometimes it is seen that the 
moderator is more troublesome than the actor. 

Iterations are commonly loss of time ; but there 
is no such gain of time as to iterate often the state 
of the question ; for it chaseth away many a frivo- 
lous speech as it is coming forth. Long and cu- 
rious speeches are as fit for dispatch as a robe, or 
mantle, with a long train, is for a race. Prefaces, 
and passages,^ and excusations,^ and other speeches 

1 It is supposed that he here alludes to Sir Amyas Paulet, a very- 
able statesman, and the ambassador of Queen Elizabeth to the 
court of France. 

2 Quotations. ^ Apologies. 



OF DISPATCH. 165 

of reference to the person, are great wastes of time ; 
and tliough they seem to proceed of modesty, they 
are bravery.^ Yet beware of being too material 
when there is any impediment, or obstruction in 
men's wills ; for preoccupation of mind ^ ever re- 
quiretli preface of speech, like a fomentation to make 
the unguent enter. 

Above all things, order and distribution, and sin- 
gling out of parts, is the life of dispatch, so as the 
distribution be not too subtile ; for he that doth not 
divide will never enter well into business ; and he 
that divideth too much will never come out of it 
clearly. To choose time is to save time; and an 
unseasonable motion is but beating the air. There 
be three parts of business, — the preparation ; the 
debate, or examination ; and the perfection. Where- 
of, if you look for dispatch, let the middle only be 
the work of many, and the first and last the work 
of few. The proceeding, upon somewhat conceived 
in writing, doth for the most part facilitate dispatch ; 
for though it should be wholly rejected, yet that 
negative is more pregnant of direction than an in- 
definite, as ashes are more generative than dust. 

1 Boasting. 2 Prejudice. 



166 ESSAYS. 



XXVI. — OF SEEMING WISE. 

It hath been an opinion, that the French are 
wiser than they seem, and the Spaniards seem wiser 
than they are ; but howsoever it be between na- 
tions, certainly it is so between man and man ; for, 
as the apostle saith of godliness, " Having a show 
of godliness, but denying the power thereof, " ^ so 
certainly there are, in points of wisdom and suffi- 
ciency, that do nothing, or little very solemnly, — 
" magno conatu nugas." ^ It is a ridiculous thing, 
and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to see 
what shifts these formalists have, and what pro- 
spectives to make superficies to seem body, that hath 
depth and bulk. Some are so close and reserved, 
as they will not show their wares but by a dark 
light, and seem always to keep back somewhat ; 
and when they know within themselves they speak 
of that they do not well know, would nevertheless 
seem to others to know of that which they may 
not well speak. Some help themselves with coun- 
tenance and gesture, and are wise by signs ; as 
Cicero saith of Piso, that when he answered him, he 
fetched one of his brows up to his forehead, and 
bent the other down to his chin : " Respondes, altero 
ad frontem sublato, altero ad mentum depresso 

1 2 Tim. iii. 5. 

2 "Trifles ^ith great effort." 



OF SEEMING WISE. 167 

supercilio ; criiclelitatem tibi iion placere." ^ Some 
think to bear it by speaking a great word, and being 
peremptory ; and go on, and take by admittance that 
which they cannot make good. Some, whatsoever 
is beyond their reach, will seem to despise or make 
light of it as impertinent or curious, and so would 
have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are 
never Avithout a difference, and commonly by amus- 
ing men with a subtilty, blanch the matter ; of whom 
A. Gellius saith, "Hominem delirum, qui verborum 
minutiis rerum frangit pondera."^ Of which kind 
also Plato, in his Protagoras, bringeth in Prodicus 
in scorn, and maketh him make a speech that con- 
sisteth of distinctions from the beginning to the end.^ 
Generally such men, in all deliberations, find ease 
to be^ of the negative side, and affect a credit to 
object and foretell difficulties ; for when propositions 
are denied, there is an end of them, but if they be 
allowed, it requireth a new work ; which false point 
of wisdom is the bane of business. To conclude, 
there is no decaying merchant, or inward beggar,^ 

1 "With one brow raised to your forehead, the other bent 
downward to your chin, you answer that cruelty delights you 
not." — In Pis. 6. 

2 "A foolish man, who fritters away the weight of matters by 
finespun trifling on words." — Vide Quint, x. 1. 

3 Plat. Protag. i. 337. 

* Find it easier to make difficulties and objections than to 
originate. 

5 One really in insolvent circumstances, though to the world 
he does not appear so. 



168 ESSAYS. 

hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of their 
wealth, as these empty persons have to maintain 
the credit of their sufficiency. Seeming wise men 
may make shift to get opinion, but let no man 
choose them for employment ; for certainly, you 
were better take for business a man somewhat 
absurd than over-formal. 



XXYIL — OF FRIENDSHIP. 

It had been hard for him that spake it, to have 
put more truth and untruth together in few words 
than in that speech : " Whosoever is delighted in 
solitude, is either a wild beast or a god : " ^ for it is 
most true, that a natural and secret hatred and 
aversion towards society in any man hath somewhat 
of the savage beast ; but it is most untrue, that it 
should have any character at all of the divine nature, 
except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, 
but out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self 
for a higher conversation ; such as is found to have 
been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen ; 
as Epimenides,^ the Candian ; Numa, the Roman ; 

1 He here quotes from a passage in the Politica of Aristotle, 
book i. **He who is unable to mingle in society, or who requires 
nothing, by reason of sufficing for himself, is no part of the state, 
so that he is either a wild beast or a divinity." 

2 Epimenides, a poet of Crete (of which Candia is the modern 
name), is said by Pliny to have fallen into a sleep which lasted 



OF FRIENDSHIP. 169 

Empedocles, the Sicilian ; and Apollonius, of Tyana ; 
and truly and really in divers of the ancient hermits 
and holy fathers of the church. But little do men 
perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth ; 
for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a 
gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, 
where there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth 
with it a little : '' Magna civitas, magna solitudo : " ^ 
because in a great town friends are scattered, so that 
there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which 
is in less neighborhoods : but we may go further, 
and affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable 
solitude to want true friends, without which the 
world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense 
also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature 
and affections is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of 
the beasts, and not from humanity. 

A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and dis- 
charge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, 

57 years. He was also said to have lived 299 years. Numa 
pretended that he was instructed in the art of legislation by the 
divine nymph Egeria, who dwelt in the Arician grove. Emped- 
oeles, the Sicilian philosopher, declared himself to be immortal, 
and to be able to cure all evils. He is said by some to have 
retired from society that his death might not be known, and to 
have thrown himself into the crater of INIount ^tna. Apollonius 
of Tyana, the Pythagorean philosopher, pretended to miraculous 
powers, and after his death a temple was erected to him at that 
place. His life is recorded by Philostratus; and some persons, 
among whom are Hierocles, Dr. More, in his Mystery of Godliness, 
and recently Strauss, have not hesitated to compare his miracles 
with those of our Saviour. 

1 " A great city, a great desert." 



170 ESSAYS. 

which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. 
We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are 
the most dangerous in the body, and it is not much 
otherwise in the mind. You may take sarza ^ to 
open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of 
sulphur for the lungs, castoreum ^ for the brain, but 
no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to 
whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, 
suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the 
heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or 
confession. 

It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate 
great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of 
friendship whereof we speak ; so great, as they pur- 
chase it many times at the hazard of their own safety 
and greatness ; for princes, in regard of the distance 
of their fortune from that of their subjects and ser- 
vants, cannot gather this fruit, except (to make them- 
selves capable thereof) they raise some persons to be 
as it were companions, and almost equals to them- 
selves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience. 
The modern languages give unto such persons the 
name of favorites, or privadoes, as if it were matter 
of grace or conversation ; but the Roman name at- 
taineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them 
" participes curarum ; " ^ for it is that which tietli 
the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been 

1 Sarsaparilla. 

2 A liquid matter of a pungent smell, extracted from a portion of 
the body of the beaver. 

^ " Partakers of cares." 



OF FRIENDSHIP. 171 

done, not by weak and passionate princes only, but 
by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned, who 
have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their 
servants, whom both themselves have called friends, 
and allowed others likewise to call them in the same 
manner, using the word which is received between 
private men. 

L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pom- 
pey (after surnamed the Great) to that height, that 
Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's overmatch ; for 
when he had carried the consulship for a friend of 
his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a 
little resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pom- 
pey turned upon him again, and, in effect, bade him 
be quiet ; for that more men adored the sun rising 
than the sun setting.^ With Julius Caesar, Decimus 
Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set him 
down in his testament for heir in remainder after his 
nephew ; and this was the man that had power with 
him to draw him forth to his death ; for when Csesar 
would have discharged the senate, in regard of some 
ill presages, and specially a dream of Cali)hurnia, this 
man lifted him gently by the arm out of his chair, 
telling him he hoped he would not dismiss the senate 
till his wife had dreamt a better dream ; ^ and it 
seemeth his favor was so great, as Antonius, in a 
letter which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's 

1 Plutarch {Fit. Pomp. 19) relates that Pompey said this upon 
Sylla's refusal to give him a triumph. 

2 Plut. Vit. J. Cses. 64. 



172 ESSAYS. 

Philippics, calleth him venefica, "witch," as if he 
had enchanted Caesar.^ Augustus raised Agrippa 
(thougli of mean birth) to that height, as, when he 
consulted with Mgecenas about the marriage of his 
daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty to tell him, 
that he must either marry his daughter to Agrippa, 
or take away his life ; there was no third way, he 
had made him so great. With Tiberius Csesar, Se- 
janus had ascended to that height, as they two were 
termed and reckoned as a pair of friends. Tiberius, 
in a letter to him, saith, " Hsec pro amicitia nostra 
non occultavi ; " ^ and the whole senate dedicated an 
altar to Friendship, as to a goddess, in respect of 
the great dearness of friendship between them two. 
The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus 
and Plautianus ; for he forced his eldest son to 
marry the daughter of Plautianus, and would often 
maintain Plautianus in doing affronts to his son ; 
and did write, also, in a letter to the senate, by these 
words : " I love the man so well, as I wish he may 
over-live me." ^ Now, if these princes had been as a 
Trajan, or a INIarcus Aurelius, a man might have 
thought that this had proceeded of an abundant 
goodness of nature ; but being men so wise,^ of such 
strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers 

1 Cic. Philip, xiii. 11. 

2 " These things, hy reason of our friendship, I have not con- 
cealed /ro?n you.'' — Vide Tac. Ann. iv. 40. 

3 Dio Cass. Ixxv. 

* Such infamous men as Tiberius and Sejanus hardly deserve this 
commendation. 



OF FRIENDSHIP. 173 

of themselves, as all these were, it proveth most 
plainly that they found their own felicity (though as 
great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an 
half-piece, except they might have a friend to make 
it entire ; and yet, which is more, they were princes 
that had wives, sons, nephews ; and yet all these 
could not supply the comfort of friendship. 

It is not to be forgotten what Comineus ^ observ- 
eth of his first master, Duke Charles the Hardy ,2 
namely, that he would communicate his secrets with 
none, and, least of all, those secrets which troubled 
him most. Whereupon he goeth on, and saith, that 
towards his latter time, that closeness did impair 
and a little perish his understanding. Surely, Comi- 
neus might have made the same judgment, also, if 
it had pleased him, of his second master, Louis the 
Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. 
The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true : " Cor 
ne edito,' " eat not the heart." ^ Certainly, if a 

1 Philip de Comines. 

2 Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, the valiant antagonist 
of Louis XI. of France. De Comines spent his early years at 
his court, but afterwards passed into the service of Louis XL 
This monarch was notorious for his cruelty, treachery, and dis- 
simulation, and had all the bad qualities of his contemporary, Ed- 
ward IV. of England, without any of his redeeming virtues. 

3 Pythagoras went still further than this, as he forbade his 
disciples to eat flesh of any kind whatever. See the interesting 
speech which Ovid attributes to him in the fifteenth book of the 
Metamorphoses. Sir Thomas Browne, in his Pseudoxia [Browne s 
Works, Bohn's Antiq, ed. vol. i. p. 27, et scq.), gives some curious 
explanations of the doctrines of this philosojiher. — Flut. de Educat. 
Puer. 17. 



174 ESSAYS. 

man would give it a hard phrase, those that want 
friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of 
their own hearts ; but one thing is most admirable 
(wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friend- 
ship), which is, that this communicating of a man's 
self to his friend works two contrary effects, for it 
redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves ; for 
there is no man that imparteth his joys to his friend, 
but he joyeth the more ; and no man that imparteth 
his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the less. 
So that it is, in truth, of operation upon a man's 
mind of like virtue as the alchemists used to attrib- 
ute to their stone for man's body, that it worketh all 
contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit of 
nature. But yet, without praying in aid of al- 
chemists, there is a manifest image of this in the 
ordinary course of nature ; for, in bodies, union 
strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action ; 
and, on the other side, wep^keneth and dulieth any 
violent impression ; and even so it is of minds. 

The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sov- 
ereign for the understanding, as the first is for the 
affections; for friendship maketh indeed a fair day 
in the affections from storm and tempests, but it 
maketh daylight in the understanding, out of dark- 
ness and confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to 
be understood only of faithful counsel, which a man 
receiveth from his friend ; but before you come 
to that, certain it is, that whosoever hath his 
mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and 



OF FRIENDSHIP. I75 

understanding do clarify and break up in the commu- 
nicating and discoursing with another ; he tosscth 
his thoughts more easily ; he marshalleth them more 
orderly ; he seeth how they look when they are 
turned into words ; finally, he waxeth wiser than 
himself ; and that more by an hour's discourse than 
by a day's meditation. It was well said by The- 
mistocles to the king of Persia : " That speech was 
like cloth of Arras/ opened and put abroad, whereby 
the imagery doth appear in figure ; whereas in 
thoughts they lie but as in packs." ^ Neither is this 
second fruit of friendship, in opening the under- 
standing, restrained only to such friends as are able 
to give a man counsel (they indeed are best), but 
even without that a man learneth of himself, and 
bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth his 
wits as against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a 
word, a man were better relate himself to a statue 
or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in 
smother. 

Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship 
complete, that other point which lieth more open, 
and falleth within vulgar observation ; which is 
faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith 
well, in one of his enigmas, " Dry light is ever the 
best ; " 2 and certain it is, that the light that a man 

1 Tapestry. Speaking hypercritically, Lord Bacon commits an 
anachronism here, as Arras did not manufacture tapestry till the 
middle ages. 

2 Plut. Vit. Themist. 28. 
6 Ap. Stob. Serm. v. 120. 



176 ESSAYS. 

receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and 
purer than that which cometh from his own under- 
standing and judgment, which is ever infused and 
drenched in his affections and customs. So, as there 
is as much difference between the counsel that a 
friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there 
is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer ; 
for there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and 
there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's 
self, as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two 
sorts, — the one concerning manners, the other con- 
cerning business ; for the first, the best preservative 
to keep the mind in health, is the faithful admonition 
of a friend. The calling of a man's self to a strict 
account is a medicine sometimes too piercing and 
corrosive ; reading good books of morality is a little 
flat and dead ; observing our faults in others is 
sometimes improper for our case ; but the best re- 
ceipt (best, I. say, to work, and best to take), is the 
admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to 
behold what gross errors and extreme absurdities 
many (especially of the greater sort) do commit 
for want of a friend to tell them of them, to the 
great damage both of their fame and fortune ; for, 
as St. James saith, they are as men "that look 
sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their 
own shape and favor." ^ As for business, a man 
may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more 
than one; or, that a gamester seeth always more 

1 James i. 23. 



OF FRIENDSHIP. I77 

than a looker-on ; or, that a man in anger is as wise 
as he that has said over the four and twenty let- 
ters ; ^ or, that a musket may be shot off as w^ell 
upon the arm as uj^on a rest ; ^ and such other fond 
and high imaginations, to think himself all in all ; 
but when all is done, the help of good counsel is 
that which setteth business straight. And if any 
man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be 
by pieces, asking counsel in one business of one 
man, and in another business of another man ; it is 
well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he 
asked none at all) ; but he runneth two dangers, — 
one, that he shall not be faithfully counselled ; for 
it is a rare thing, except it be from a perfect and 
entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as 
shall be bowed and crooked to some ends which he 
hath that giveth it ; the other, that he shall have 
counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good 
meaning), and mixed partly of mischief, and partly 
of remedy ; even as if you would call a physician, 
that is thought good for the cure of the disease you 
complain of, but is unacquainted with your body ; 
and, therefore, may put you in a way for a present 
cure, but overthroweth your health in some other 
kind, and so cure the disease and kill the patient. 

1 He alludes to the recommendation which moralists have often 
given, that a i3erson in anger should go through the alphabet to 
himself, before he allows himself to speak. 

2 In his day, the musket was fixed upon a stand, called the 
"rest," much as the gingals or matchlocks are used in the East at 
the present da3^ 

12 



178 ESSAYS. 

But a friend, that is wholly acquainted with a 
man's estate, will beware, by furthering any present 
business, how he dasheth upon other inconvenience ; 
and, therefore, rest not upon scattered counsels ; 
they will rather distract and mislead, than settle 
and direct. 

After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace 
in the affections, and support of the judgment), 
followeth the last fruit, which is like the pomegran- 
ate, full of many kernels ; I mean aid, and bearing 
a part in all actions and occasions. Here the best 
way to represent to life the manifold use of friend- 
ship, is to cast and see how many things there are 
which a man cannot do himself; and then it will 
appear that it was a sparing speech of the ancients 
to say, " that a friend is another himself," for that 
a friend is far more than himself. Men have their 
time, and die many times in desire of some things 
which they principally take to heart ; the bestowing 
of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like. If 
a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure 
that the care of those things will continue after him ; 
so that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his de- 
sires. A man hath a body, and that body is con- 
fined to a place ; but where friendship is, all offices 
of life are, as it were, granted to him and his deputy, 
for he may exercise them by his friend. Ho^v 
many things are there, which a man cannot, with 
any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man 
can scarce allege his own merits with modesty. 



OF EXPENSE. 179 

much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes 
brook to supplicate, or beg, and a number of the 
like ; but all those things are graceful in a friend's 
mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. So, 
again, a man's person hath many proper relations 
which he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his 
son but as a father ; to his wife but as a husband ; 
to his enemy but upon terms; whereas, a friend 
may speak as the case requires, and not as it sorteth 
with the person. But to enumerate these things 
were endless; I have given the rule, where a man 
cannot fitly play his own part. If he have not a 
friend, he may quit the stage. 



xxviiL— OF expe:n^se. 

Riches are for spending, and spending for honor 
and good actions ; therefore, extraordinary expense 
must be limited by the worth of the occasion ; for 
voluntary undoing may be as well for a man's coun- 
try as for the kingdom of heaven; but ordinary 
expense ought to be limited by a man's estate, and 
governed with such regard, as it be within his com- 
pass, and not subject to deceit and abuse of servants, 
and ordered to the best show, that the bills may be 
less than the estimation abroad. Certainly, if a 
man will keep but of even hand, his ordinary 



180 ESSAYS. 

expenses ought to be but to the half of his receipts ; 
and, if he think to wax rich, but to the third part. 
It is no baseness for the greatest to descend and 
look into their own estate. Some forbear it, not 
upon negligence alone, but doubting to bring them- 
selves into melancholy, in respect they shall find it 
broken ; but wounds cannot be cured without search- 
ing. He that cannot look into his own estate at 
all, had need both choose well those whom he em- 
ployeth, and change them often ; for new are more 
timorous, and less subtle. He that can look into 
his estate but seldom, it behooveth him to turn all 
to certainties. A man had need, if he be plentiful 
in some kind of expense, to be as saving again in 
some other: as, if he be plentiful in diet, to be 
saving in apparel ; if he be plentiful in the hall, to 
be saving in the stable ; and the like. For he that 
is plentiful in expenses of all kinds, will hardly 
be preserved from decay. In clearing^ of a man's 
estate, he may as well hurt himself in being too 
sudden, as in letting it run on too long; for hasty 
selling is commonly as disadvantageable as interest. 
Besides, he that clears at once will relapse ; for, 
finding himself out of straits, he will revert to his 
customs ; but he that cleareth by degrees induceth 
a habit of frugality, and gaineth as well upon his 
mind as upon his estate. Certainly, who hath a 
state to repair, may not despise small things ; and, 
commonly, it is less dishonorable to abridge petty 

1 From debts and incumbrances. 



OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 181 

charges, than to stoop to petty gettings. A man 
ought warily to begin charges, which once begun 
will continue; but in matters that return not, he 
may be more magnificent. 



XXIX. — OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KING- 
DOMS AND ESTATES. 

The speech of Themistocles, the Athenian, which 
was haughty and arrogant, in taking so much to 
himself, had been a grave and wise observation and 
censure, applied at large to others. Desired at a 
feast to touch a lute, he said, '' He could not fiddle, 
but yet he could make a small town a great city." ^ 
These words (holpen a little with a metaphor) may 
express two different abilities in those that deal in 
business of estate; for if a true survey be taken 
of counsellors and statesmen, there may be found 
(though rarely) those which can make a small state 
great, and yet cannot fiddle: as, on the other side 
there will be found a great many that can fiddle 
very cunningly, but yet are so far from being able 
to make a small state great, as their gift lieth the 
other way, — to bring a great and flourishing estate 
to ruin and decay. And certainly, those degenerate 
arts and shifts, whereby many counsellors and gov- 
ernors gain both favor with their masters and 

1 Plut. Vit. Themist. ad init. 



182 ESSAYS. 

estimation with the vulgar, deserve no better name 
than fiddling; being things rather pleasing for the 
time, and graceful to themselves only, than tending 
to the weal and advancement of the state which 
they serve. There are also (no doubt) counsellors 
and governors which may be held sufficient, " nego- 
tiis pares," ^ able to manage affairs, and to keep 
them from precipices and manifest inconveniences; 
which, nevertheless, are far from the ability to raise 
and amplify an estate in power, means, and fortune. 
But be the workmen what they may be, let us speak 
of the work ; that is, the true greatness of kingdoms 
and estates, and the means thereof. An argument 
fit for great and mighty princes to have in their 
hand ; to the end, that neither by overmeasuring 
their forces, they lose themselves in vain enterprises : 
nor, on the other side, by undervaluing them, they 
descend to fearful and pusillanimous counsels. 

The greatness of an estate, in bulk and territory, 
doth fall under measure ; and the greatness of 
finances and revenue doth fall under computation. 
The population may appear by musters, and the 
number and greatness of cities and towns by cards 
and maps ; but yet there is not anything amongst 
civil affairs more subject to error than the right, 
valuation and true judgment concerning the power 
and forces of an estate. The kingdom of heaven 
is compared, not to any great kernel, or nut, but to 



1 « 



Equal to business.* 



OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 183 

a grain of mustard-seed ; ^ which is one of the least 
grains, but hath in it a property and spirit hastily 
to get up and spread. So are there states great in 
territory, and yet not apt to enlarge or command; 
and some that have but a small dimension of stem, 
and yet apt to be the foundations of great mon- 
archies. 

Walled towns, stored arsenals and armories, goodly 
races of horse, chariots of war, elephants, ordnance, 
artillery, and the like ; all this is but a sheep in a 
lion's skin, except the breed and disposition of the 
people be stout and warlike. Nay, number itself 
in armies importeth not much, where the people is 
of weak courage ; for, as Virgil saith, " It never 
troubles a wolf how many the sheep be."^ The 
army of the Persians in the plains of Arbela was 
such a vast sea of people, as it did somewhat as- 
tonish the commanders in Alexander's army, who 
came to him, therefore, and wished him to set upon 
them by night ; but he answered, ^' He would not 
pilfer the victory;" and the defeat was easy.^ — 
When Tigranes,* the Armenian, being encamped 

1 He alludes to the following passage, St. Matthew xiii. 31 : 
*' Another parable put he forth unto them, saying. The kingdom 
of heaven is like to a grain of mustard-seed, which a man took and 
sowed in his field ; wliich indeed is the least of all seeds ; but when 
it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, 
so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof." 

2 Virg. Eel. vii. 51. ^ vide. A. L. i. vii. 11. 

4 He was vanquished by Lucullus, and finally submitted to 
Pompey. — Plut. Vit. LuculL 27. 



184 ESSAYS. 

upon a hill with four hundred thousand men, dis- 
covered the army of the Romans, being not above 
fourteen thousand, marching towards him, he made 
himself merry with it, and said, " Yonder men are 
too many for an ambassage, and too few for a fight ; " 
but before the sun set, he found them enow to give 
him the chase with infinite slaughter. Many are 
the examples of the great odds between number and 
courage; so that a man may truly make a judgment, 
that the principal point of greatness in any state is 
to have a race of military men. Neither is money 
the sinews of war (as it is trivially said), where the 
sinews of men's arms, in base and effeminate people, 
are failing: for Solon said well to Croesus (when 
in ostentation he showed him his gold), " Sir, if any 
other come that hath better iron than you, he will 
be master of all this gold." Therefore, let any prince 
or state, think soberly of his forces, except his mil- 
itia of natives be of good and valiant soldiers ; and 
let princes, on the other side, that have subjects of 
martial disposition, know their own strength, unless 
they be otherwise wanting unto themselves. As for 
mercenary forces (which is the help in this case), all 
examples show that, whatsoever estate or prince doth 
rest upon them, he may spread his feathers for a 
time, but he will mew them soon after. 

The blesshig of Judah and Issachar^ will never 

1 He alludes to the prophetic words of Jacob on his death-hed, 
Gen. xlix, 9, 14, 15 : '-Judah is a lion's whelp; ... he stooped 
down, he couched as a lion, and as an old lion. . . . Issachar is 



OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 185 

meet; that the same people, or nation, should be 
both the lion's whelp and the ass between burdens ; 
neither will it be, that a people overlaid with taxes 
should ever become valiant and martial. It is true 
that taxes, levied by consent of the estate, do abate 
men's courage less; as it hath been seen notably 
in the excises of the Low Countries, and, in some 
degree, in the subsidies^ of England; for, you must 
note, that we speak now of the heart, and not of the 
purse ; so that, although the same tribute and tax, 
laid by consent or by imposing, be all one to the 
purse, yet it works diversely upon the courage. So 
that you may conclude, that no people overcharged 
with tribute is fit for empire. 

Let states that aim at greatness take heed how 
their nobility and gentlemen do multiply too fast ; 
for that maketh the common subject grow to be a 
peasant and base swain, driven out of heart, and, 
in effect, but the gentleman's laborer. Even as you 
may see in coppice woods ; if you leave your stad- 
dles^ too thick, you shall never have clean under- 
wood, but shrubs and bushes. So in countries, if 
the gentlemen be too many, the commons will be 
base ; and you will bring it to that, that not the 

a strong ass couching down between two burdens : And lie saw 
that rest was good, and the land that it was pleasant ; and bowed 
his shoulder to bear, and became a servant unto tribute." 

1 Sums of money voluntarily contributed by the people for the 
use of the sovereign. 

2 Younff trees. 



186 ESSAYS. 

hundred poll will be fit for a helmet, especially as 
to the infantry, which is the nerve of an army ; 
and so there will be great population and little 
strength. This which I speak of, hath been nowhere 
better seen than by comparing of England and 
France ; whereof England, though far less in terri- 
tory and population, hath been, nevertheless, an 
overmatch ; in regard, the middle people of Eng- 
land make good soldiers, which the peasants of 
France do not. And herein the device of King 
Henry the Seventh (whereof I have spoken largely 
in the history of his life) was profound and admira- 
ble ; in making farms and houses of husbandry of 
a standard, that is, maintained with such a propor- 
tion of land unto them as may breed a subject to 
live in convenient plenty, and no servile condition, 
and to keep the plough in the hands of the owners, 
and not mere hirelings ; and thus, indeed, you shall 
attain to Virgil's character, which he gives to an- 
cient Italy: — 

" Terra potens armis atque ubere glebse." ^ 

Neither is that state (which, for anything I know, 
is almost peculiar to England, and hardly to be 
found anywhere else, except it be, perhaps, in Po- 
land), to be passed over; I mean the state of free 
servants and attendants upon noblemen and gentle- 
men, which are noways inferior unto the yeomanry 

1 "A land strong in arms and in the richness of the soil." — 
Virg. ^n. i. 535. 



OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 187 

for arms; and, therefore, out of all question, the 
splendor and magnificence, and great retinues, and 
hospitality of noblemen and gentlemen received into 
custom, do much conduce unto martial greatness; 
whereas, contrariwise, the close and reserved living 
of noblemen and gentlemen causeth a penury of 
military forces. 

By all means, it is to be procured that the trunk 
of Nebuchadnezzar's tree of monarchy ^ be great 
enough to bear the branches and the boughs ; that 
is, that the natural subjects of the crown, or state, 
bear a sufficient proportion to the stranger subjects 
that they govern. Therefore, all states that are 
liberal of naturalization towards strangers are fit for 
empire ; for to think that a handful of people can, 
with the greatest courage and policy in the world, 
embrace too large extent of dominion, it may hold 
for a time, but it will fail suddenly. The Spartans 
were a nice people in point of naturalization ; where- 
by, while they kept their compass, they stood firm ; 
but when they did spread, and their boughs were 
becoming too great for their stem, they became a 
windfall upon the sudden. Never any state was, 

1 He alludes to the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, which is men- 
tioned Daniel iv. 10 ; "I saw, and behold a tree in the midst of 
the earth, and the height thereof Avas great. The tree grew, and 
was strong, and the height thereof reached unto heaven, and the 
sight thereof to the end of all the earth : the leaves thereof were 
fair, and tlie fruit thereof much, and in it was meat for all ; the 
beasts of the field had shadow under it, and the fowls of the 
heaven dwelt in the boughs thereof, and all flesh was fed of it." 



188 ESSAYS. 

ill this point, so open to receive strangers into their 
body as were the Romans ; therefore, it sorted with 
them accordingly, for they grew to the greatest 
monarchy. Their manner was to grant naturali- 
zation (which they called "jus civitatis "),^ and to 
grant it in the highest degree, that is, not only 
"jus commercii,"^ "jus coimubii,"^ "jus hsereditatis; "* 
but, also, "jus suffragii,"^ and "jus honorum;"^ 
and this not to singular persons alone, but likewise 
to whole families ; yea, to cities and sometimes to 
nations. Add to this their custom of plantation of 
colonies, whereby the Roman plant was removed 
into the soil of other nations, and, putting both 
constitutions together, you will say, that it was not 
the Romans that spread upon the world, but it was 
the world that spread upon the Romans ; and that 
was the sure way of greatness. I have marvelled 
sometimes at Spain, how they clasp and contain so 
large dominions with so few natural Spaniards ; ^ 
but sure the whole compass of Spain is a very 
great body of a tree, far above Rome and Sparta at 
the first; and, besides, though they have not had 
that usage to naturalize liberally, yet they have 
that which is next to it • that is, to employ, almost 

1 "Right of citizenship." ^ "Eight of trading." 

3 " Right of intermarriage." * " Right of inheritance." 

^ "Right of suffrage." ^ "Right of honors." 

"^ Long since the time of Lord Bacon, as soon as these colonies 

had arrived at a certain state of maturity, they at different periods 

revolted from the mother country. 



OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 189 

indifFerentlj, all nations in their militia of ordinary 
soldiers; yea, and sometimes in their highest com- 
mands; nay, it seemeth at this instant they are 
sensible of this want of natives, as by the pragmat- 
ical sanction,^ now published, appeareth. 

It is certain that sedentary and within-door arts, 
and delicate manufactures (that require rather the 
finger than the arm), have in their nature a contra- 
riety to a military disposition ; and, generally, all 
warlike people are a little idle, and love danger 
better than travail ; neither must they be too much 
broken of it, if they shall be preserved in vigor. 
Therefore, it was great advantage in the ancient 
states of Sparta, Athens, Rome, and others, that 
they had the use of slaves, which commonly did 
rid those manufactures ; but that is abolished, in 
greatest part, by the Christian law. That which 
Cometh nearest to it is, to leave those arts chiefly to 
strangers (which, for that purpose, are the more 
easily to be received), and to contain the principal 
bulk of the vulgar natives within those three kinds, 
tillers of the ground, free servants, and handicrafts- 
men of strong and manly arts ; as smiths, masons, 
carpenters, &c., not reckoning professed soldiers. 

But, above all, for empire and greatness, it im- 
porteth most, that a nation do profess arms as their 
principal honor, study, and occupation ; for the 

1 The laws and ordinances promulgated by the sovereigns of 
Spain were so called. The term was derived from the Byzantine 
empire. 



190 ESSAYS. 

things which we formerly have spoken of are but 
habilitations ^ towards arms ; and what is habilita- 
tion without intention and act ? Romulus, after his 
death (as they report or feign), sent a present to 
the Romans, that, above all, they should intend^ 
arms, and then they should prove the greatest em- 
pire of the world. The fabric of the state of Sparta 
was wholly (though not wisely) framed and com- 
posed to that scope and end ; the Persians and 
Macedonians had it for a flash ; ^ the Gauls, Ger- 
mans, Goths, Saxons, Normans, and others, had it 
for a time ; the Turks have it at this day, though in 
great declination. Of Christian Europe, they that 
have it are in effect only the Spaniards ; but it is so 
plain, that every man profiteth in that he most 
intendeth, that it needeth not to be stood upon. It 
is enough to point at it, that no nation which doth 
not directly profess arms, may look to have great- 
ness fall into their mouths ; and, on the other side, 
it is a most certain oracle of time, that those states 
that continue long in that profession (as the Romans 
and Turks principally have done), do wonders ; and 
those that have professed arms but for an age have, 
notwithstanding, commonly attained that greatness 
in that age which maintained them long after, when 
their profession and exercise of arms had grown to 
decay.^ 

Incident to this point is, for a state to have those 

1 Qualifications. 2 Attend to. 

" For a short or transitory period. 



OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 191 

laws or customs which may reach forth unto them 
just occasions (as may be pretended) of war ; for 
there is that justice imprinted in the nature of men, 
that they enter not upon wars (whereof so many 
calamities do ensue), but upon some, at the least 
specious grounds and quarrels. The Turk hath at 
baud, for cause of war, the propagation of his law 
or sect, a quarrel that he may always command. 
The Romans, though they esteemed the extending 
the limits of their empire to be great honor to 
their generals when it was done, yet they never 
rested upon that alone to begin a war. First, 
therefore, let nations that pretend to greatness have 
this, that they be sensible of wrongs, either upon 
borderers, merchants, or politic ministers ; and that 
they sit not too long upon a provocation : secondly, 
let them be pressed,^ and ready to give aids and 
succors to their confederates, as it ever was with 
the Romans ; insomuch, as if the confederate had 
leagues defensive with divers other states, and, upon 
invasion offered, did implore their aids severally, 
yet the Romans would ever be the foremost, and 
leave it to none other to have the honor. As for 
the wars, which were anciently made on the behalf 
of a kind of party, or tacit conformity of estate, I 
do not see how they may be well justified : as when 
the Romans made a war for the liberty of Grsecia ; 
or, when the Lacedaemonians and Athenians made 
wars to set up or pull down democracies and oligar- 

1 Be in a hurry. 



192 ESSAYS. 

chies ; or when wars were made by foreigners, under 
the pretence of justice or protection, to deliver the 
subjects of others from tyranny and oppression, and 
the like. Let it suffice, that no estate expect to be 
great, that is not awake upon any just occasion of 
arming. 

Nobody can be healthful without exercise, neither 
natural body nor politic; and, certainly, to a king- 
dom, or estate, a just and honorable war is the true 
exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of a 
fever; but a foreign war is like the heat of exer- 
cise, and serveth to keep the body in health ; for, 
in a slothful peace, both courages will effeminate 
and manners corrupt. But, howsoever it be for 
happiness, without all question for greatness, it 
maketh to be still, for the most part, in arms ; and 
the strength of a veteran army (though it be a 
chargeable business) always on foot, is that which 
commonly giveth the law, or, at least, the reputation 
amongst all neighbor states, as may well be seen in 
Spain,^ which hath had, in one part or other, a 
veteran army, almost continually, now by the space 
of sixscore years. 

To be master of the sea is an abridgment of a 
monarchy. Cicero, writing to Atticus, of Pompey's 
preparation against Csesar, saith, " Consilium Pom- 
peii plane Themistocleum est ; putat enim, qui marl 

1 It was its immense armaments that in a great measure con- 
sumed the vitals of Spain. 



OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 193 

potitur, eum rerum potiri ; ^ and, without doubt, 
Pompej had tired out Caesar, if upon vain confi- 
dence he had not left that way. We see the great 
effects of battles by sea. The battle of Actium 
decided the empire of the Avorld : the battle of Le- 
panto arrested the greatness of the Turk. There 
be many examples where sea-fights have been final 
to the war ; but this is when princes, or states, have 
set up their rest upon the battles. But thus mucli 
is certain, that he that commands the sea is at great 
liberty, and may take as much and as little of the 
war as he will ; whereas, those that be strongest by 
land are many times, nevertheless, in great straits. 
Surely, at this day, with us of Europe, the vantage 
of strength at sea (which is one of the principal 
dowries of this kingdom of Great Britain) is great ; 
both because most of the kingdoms of Europe are 
not merely inland, but girt with the sea most part 
of their compass ; and because the wealth of both 
Indies seems, in great part, but an accessary to the 
command of the seas. 

The wars of latter ages seem to be made in the 
dark, in respect of the glory and honor which re- 
flected upon men from the wars in ancient time. 
There be now, for martial encouragement, some de- 
grees and orders of chivalry, which, nevertheless, 
are conferred promiscuously upon soldiers and no 

1 *' Pompey's plan is clearly that of Themistocles ; for he be- 
lieves that whoever is master of the sea will obtain the supreme 
power." — Ad Alt. x. 8. 

13 



194 ESSAYS. 

soldiers ; and some remembrance, perhaps, upon the 
escutcheon, and some hospitals for maimed soldiers, 
and such like things ; but in ancient times, the tro- 
phies erected upon the place of the victory ; the 
funeral laudatives,^ and monuments for those that 
died in the wars ; the crowns and garlands per- 
sonal; the style of emperor which the great kings 
of the world after borrowed ; the triumphs of the 
generals upon their return ; th€ great donatives and 
largesses upon the disbanding of the armies ; were 
things able to inflame all men's courages. But, above 
all, that of the triumph amongst the Romans was 
not pageants or gaudery, but one of the wisest and 
noblest institutions that ever was ; for it contained 
three things : honor to the general, riches to the 
treasury out of the spoils, and donatives to the army. 
But that honor, perhaps, were not fit for monarchies, 
except it be in the person of the monarch himself, 
or his sons ; as it came to pass in the times of the 
Roman emperors, who did impropriate the actual 
triumphs to themselves and their sons, for such wars 
as they did achieve in person, and left only for wars 
achieved by subjects, some triumphal garments and 
ensigns to the general. 

To conclude. No man can by care-taking (as the 
Scripture saith) " add a cubit to his stature," ^ 
in this little model of a man's body ; but in the 
great frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is 

1 Encomiums. 

2 St. Matthew vi. 27; St. Luke xii. 25. 



OF EEGIMEN OF HEALTH. 195 

in the power of princes, or estates, to add amplitude 
and greatness to their kingdom ; for, by introducing 
such ordinances, constitutions, and customs, as we 
have now touched, they may sow greatness to their 
posterity and succession : but these things are com- 
monly not observed, but left to take their chance. 



XXX. — OF REGIMElSr OF HEALTH. 

There is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of 
physic. A man's own observation, what he finds 
good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic 
to preserve health ; but it is a safer conclusion to 
say, "This agreeth not well with me, therefore I 
will not continue it ; " than this, " I find no offence 
of this, therefore I may use. it:" for strength of 
nature in youth passeth over many excesses which 
are owing ^ a man till his age. Discern of the com- 
ing on of years, and think not to do the same things 
still ; for age will not be defied. Beware of sudden 
change in any great point of diet, and, if necessity 
enforce it, fit the rest to it ; for it is a secret both in 
nature and state, that it is safer to change many 
things than one. Examine thy customs of diet, 
sleep, exercise, apparel, and the like ; and try, in any 
thing thou shalt judge hurtful, to discontinue it by 
little and little; but so, as if thou dost find any 

1 The effects of which must be felt in old age. 



196 ESSAYS. 

inconvenience by the change, thou come back to it 
again ; for it is hard to distinguish that which is 
generally held good and wholesome, from that which 
is good particularly,^ and fit for thine own body. To 
be free-minded and cheerfully disposed at hours of 
meat, and .of sleep, and of exercise, is one of the 
best precepts of long lasting. As for the passions 
and studies of the mind, avoid envy, anxious fears, 
anger fretting inwards, subtle and knotty inquisi- 
tions, joys, and exhilarations in excess, sadness not 
communicated. Entertain hopes, mirth rather than 
joy, variety of delights, rather than surfeit of them ; 
wonder and admiration, and therefore novelties ; 
studies that fill the mind with splendid and illustri- 
ous objects, as histories, fables, and contemplations 
of nature. If you fly physic in health altogether, it 
will be too strange for your body when you shall 
need it; if you make it too familiar, it will work no 
extraordinary effect when sickness cometh. I com- 
mend rather some diet, for certain seasons, than 
frequent use of physic, except it be grown into a 
custom ; for those diets alter the body more, and 
trouble it less. Despise no new accident^ in your 
body, but ask opinion^ of it. In sickness, respect 
health principally ; and in health, action ; for those 
that put their bodies to endure in health, may, in 
most sicknesses which are not very sharp, be cured 

1 Of benefit in your individual case. 

2 Any striking change in the constitution. 

3 Take medical advice. 



OF SUSPICION. 197 

only with diet and tendering. Celsus could never 
have spoken it as a physician, had he not been a 
wise man w^ithal, when he giveth it for one of the 
great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do 
vary and interchange contraries, but with an inclinar- 
tion to the more benign extreme. Use fasting and 
full eating, but rather full eating ; ^ watching and 
sleep, but rather sleep; sitting and exercise, but 
rather exercise, and the like ; so shall nature be 
cherished, and yet taught masteries.^ Physicians are 
some of them so pleasing and conformable to the 
humor of the patient, as they press not the true cure 
of the disease ; and some other are so regular in 
proceeding according to art for the disease, as they 
respect not sufficiently the condition of the patient. 
Take one of a middle temper; or, if it may not be 
found in one man, combine two of either sort ; and 
forget not to call as well the best acquainted with 
your body, as the best reputed of for his faculty. 



XXXI. — OF SUSPICIOK 

Suspicions amongst thoughts are like bats amongst 
birds, they ever fly by twilight. Certainly they are 
to be repressed, or at the least well guarded; for 
they cloud the mind, they lose friends, and they 

1 Incline rather to fully satisfying your hunger. 

2 Celsus de Med. i. 1. 



198 ESSAYS. 

check with business, whereby business cannot go 
on currently and constantly. They dispose kings to 
tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to irresolu- 
tion and melancholy. They are defects, not in the 
heart but in the brain ; for they take place in the 
stoutest natures, as in the example of Henry the 
Seventh of England. There was not a more suspi- 
cious man, nor a more stout, and in such a composi- 
tion they do small hurt ; for commonly they are not 
admitted, but with examination, whether they be 
likely or no; but in fearful natures they gain ground 
too fast. There is nothing makes a man suspect 
much, more than to know little ; and, therefore, men 
should remedy suspicion by procuring to know more, 
and not to keep their suspicions in smother. What 
would men have ? Do they think those they employ 
and deal with are saints ? Do they not think they 
will have their own ends, and be truer to themselves 
than to them ? Therefore, there is no better way to 
moderate suspicions, than to account upon such sus- 
picions as true, and yet to bridle them as false : ^ for 
so far a man ought to make use of suspicions as to 
provide, as if that should be true that he suspects, 
yet it may do him no hurt. Suspicions that the mind 
of itself gathers are but buzzes ; but suspicions that 
are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads 
by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. 
Certainly, the best mean, to clear the way in this 
same wood of suspicions, is frankly to communicate 

1 To hope the best, but be fully prepared for the worst. 



OF DISCOURSE. 199 

them with the party that he suspects : for thereby he 
shall be sure to know more of the truth of them than 
he did before ; and, withal, shall make that party 
more circumspect, not to give further cause of sus- 
picion. But tliis w^ould not be done to men of base 
natures ; for they, if they find themselves once sus- 
pected, will never be true. The Italian says, " Sos- 
petto licentia fede ; " ^ as if suspicion did give a 
passport to faith ; but it ought rather to kindle it to 
discharge itself. 



XXXIL — OF DISCOURSE. 

Some in their discourse desire rather commenda- 
tion of wit, in being able to hold all arguments,^ than 
of judgment, in discerning what is true ; as if it were 
a praise to know what might be said and not what 
should be thought. Some have certain common- 
places and themes, wherein they are good, and want 
variety ; which kind of poverty is for the most part 
tedious, and, when it is once perceived, ridiculous. 
The honorablest part of talk is to give the occasion,^ 
and again to moderate and pass to somewhat else ; 
for then a man leads the dance. It is good in dis- 
course, and speech of conversation, to vary and 

1 •' Suspicion is the passport to faith." 

2 A censure of this nature has been applied by some to Dr. 
Johnson, and possibly with some reason. 

3 To start the subject. 



200 ESSAYS. 

intermingle speech of the present occasion with 
arguments, tales with reasons, asking of questions 
with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest ; for it 
is a dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade 
any thing too far. As for jest, there be certain 
things which ought to be privileged from it ; namely, 
religion, matters of state, great persons, any man's 
present business of importance, and any case that 
deserveth pity ; yet there be some that think their 
wits have been asleep, except they dart out some- 
what that is piquant, and to the quick ; that is a 
vein which would be bridled : ^ — • 

" Parce, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris." ^ 

And, generally, men ought to find the difference 
between saltness and bitterness. Certainly, he that 
hath a satirical vein, as he maketh others afraid of 
his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory. 
He that questioneth much, shall learn much, and 
content much, but especially if he apply his ques- 
tions to the skill of the persons whom he asketh : 
for he shall give them occasion to please themselves 
in speaking, and himself shall continually gather 
knowledge ; but let his questions not be troublesome, 
for that is fit for a poser.^ And let him be sure to 
leave other men their turns to speak ; nay, if there 
be any that would reign and take up all the time, 

1 Requires to be bridled. 

2 He quotes here from Ovid: "Boy, spare tlie whip, and 
tightly grasp the reins." — Met. ii. 127. 

3 One who tests or examines. 



OP DISCOURSE. 201 

let him find means to take them off, and to bring 
others on, as musicians used to do with those that 
dance too long galliards.^ If you dissemble some- 
times your knowledge of that you are thought to 
know, you shall be thought, another time, to know 
that you know not. Speech of a man's self ought 
to be seldom, and well chosen. I knew one was 
wont to say in scorn, " He must needs be a wise 
man, he speaks so much of himself;" and there is 
but one case wherein a man may commend himself 
with good grace, and that is in commending virtue 
in another, especially if it be such a virtue whereunto 
himself pretendeth. Speech of touch ^ towards others 
should be sparingly used ; for discourse ought to be 
as a field, without coming home to any man. I 
knew two noblemen, of the west part of England, 
whereof the one was given to scoff, but kept ever 
royal cheer in his house; the other would ask of 
those that had been at the other's table, " Tell truly, 
was there never a flout ^ or dry blow ^ given ? " To 
which the guest would answer, " Such and such a 
thing passed." The lord would say, " I thought he 
would mar a good dinner." Discretion of speech is 
more than eloquence ; and to speak agreeably to 
him with whom we deal, is more than to speak in 

1 The galliard was a liglit active dance, much in fashion in the 
time of Queen Elizabeth. 

2 Hits at, or remarks intended to be applied to, particular 
individuals. 

3 A slight or insult. 

^ A sarcastic remark. 



202 ESSAYS. 

good words, or in good order. A good continued 
speech, without a good speech of interlocution, shows 
slowness ; and a good reply, or second speech, with- 
out a good settled speech, showeth shallowness and 
weakness. As we see in beasts, that those that are 
weakest in the course, are yet nimblest in the turn ; 
as it is betwixt the greyhound and the hare. To use 
too many circumstances, ere one come to the matter, 
is wearisome ; to use none at all, is blunt. 



XXXIII. — OF PLANTATIONS.! 

Plantations are amongst ancient, primitive, and 
heroical works. When the world was young, it 
begat more children ; but now it is old, it begets 
fewer ; for I may justly account new plantations to 
be the children of former kingdoms. I like a plan- 
tation in a pure soil ; that is, where people are not 
displanted,^ to the end to plant in others ; for else 
it is rather an extirpation than a plantation. Plant- 
ing of countries is like planting of woods ; for you 
must make account to lose almost twenty years' 
profit, and expect your recompense in the end ; for 
the principal thing that hath been the destruction 

1 The old term for coloines. 

2 He perhaps alludes covertly to the conduct of the Spaniards 
iu extirpating the aboriginal inhabitants of the "West India Islands, 
against which the venerable Las Casas so eloquently but vainly 
X^rotested. 



OF PLANTATIONS. 203 

of most plantations, hath been the base and hasty 
drawing of profit in the first years. It is true, 
speedy profit is not to be neglected, as far as may 
stand with the good of the plantation, but no further. 
It is a shameful and unblessed thing ^ to take the 
scum of people and wicked condemned men, to be 
the people with whom you plant ; and not only so, 
but it spoileth the plantation ; for they will ever live 
like rogues, and not fall to work ; but be lazy, and 
do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly 
weary, and then certify over to their country to the 
discredit of the plantation. The people wherewith 
you plant ought to be gardeners, ploughmen, labor- 
ers, smiths, carpenters, joiners, fishermen, fowlers, 
with some few apothecaries, surgeons, cooks, and 
bakers. In a country of plantations, first look about 
what kind of victual the country yields of itself to 
hand ; as chestnuts, walnuts, pine-apples, olives, 
dates, plums, cherries, wild honey, and the like, 
and make use of them. Then consider what victual, 
or esculent things there are, which grow speedily, 
and within the year ; as parsnips, carrots, turnips, 
onions, radish, artichokes of Jerusalem, maize, and 
the like. For wheat, barley, and oats, they ask too 
much labor ; but with pease and beans you may 
begin, both because they ask less labor, and because 
they serve for meat as well as for bread ; and of 

1 Of course, this censure would not apply to what is primarily 
and essentially a convict colony ; the object of which is to drain 
the mother country of its impure superfluities. 



204 ESSAYS. 

rice, likewise, cometh a great increase, and it is a 
kind of meat. Above all, there ought to be brought 
store of biscuit, oatmeal, flour, meal, and the like, in 
the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts, 
or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to 
diseases, and multiply fastest ; as swine, goats, cocks, 
hens, turkeys, geese, house-doves, and the like. The 
victual in plantations ought to be expended almost 
as in a besieged town, that is, with certain allowance ; 
and let the main part of the ground employed to gar- 
dens or corn, be to a common stock ; and to be laid 
in, and stored up, and then delivered out in propor- 
tion ; besides some spots of ground that any par- 
ticular person will manure for his own private use. 
Consider, likewise, what commodities the soil where 
the plantation is doth naturally yield, that they may 
some way help to defray the charge of the planta^ 
tion ; so it be not, as was said, to the untimely 
prejudice of the main business, as it hath fared with 
tobacco in Virginia.^ Wood commonly aboundeth 
but too much ; and therefore timber is fit to be one. 
If there be iron ore, and streams whereupon to set 
the mills, iron is a brave commodity where wood 
aboundeth. Making of bay-salt, if the climate be 
proper for it, would be put in experience ; grow- 
ing silk, likewise, if any be, is a likely commodity ; 
pitch and tar, where store of firs and pines are, will 

1 Times have much changed since this was penned, tobacco is 
now the staple commodity, and the source of " the main business" 
of Virginia. 



OF PLANTATIONS. 205 

not fail ; so drugs and sweet woods, where they are, 
cannot but yield great profit; soap-ashes, likewise, 
and other things that may be thought of ; but moil ^ 
not too much under ground, for the hope of mines 
is very uncertain, and useth to make the planters 
lazy in other things. For government, let it be in 
the hands of one, assisted with some counsel ; and 
lot them have commission to exercise martial laws, 
with some limitation ; and, above all, let men make 
that profit of being in the wilderness, as they have 
God always, and his service, before their eyes. Let 
not the government of the plantation depend upon 
too many counsellors and undertakers in the country 
that planteth, but upon a temperate number ; and 
let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen, than 
mercliants, for they look ever to the present gain. 
Let there be freedoms from custom, till the planta^ 
tion be of strength; and not only freedom from 
custom, but freedom to carry their commodities 
where they may make theu- best of them, except 
there be some special cause of caution. Cram not 
in people, by sending too fast company after com- 
pany; but rather hearken how they waste, and 
send supplies proportionably ; but so as the num- 
ber may live well in the plantation, and not by 
surcharge be in penury. It hath been a great en- 
dangering to the health of some plantations, that 
thay have built along the sea and rivers, in marish^ 

1 To labor hard. 

2 Marshy ; from the French marais, a marsh. 



206 ESSAYS. 

and unwholesome grounds; therefore, though you 
begin there, to avoid carriage and other like dis- 
commodities, yet build still rather upwards from 
the streams than along. It concerneth, likewise, 
the health of the plantation, that they have good 
store of salt with them, that they may use it in tlieir 
victuals when it shall be necessary. If you plant 
where savages are, do not only entertain them with 
trifles and gingles,^ but use them justly and gra- 
ciously, with sufficient guard, nevertheless ; and do 
not win their favor by helping them to invade their 
enemies, but for their defence it is not amiss ; and 
send oft of them over to the country that plants, 
that they may sec a better condition than their own, 
and commend it when they return. When the 
plantation grows to strength, then it is time to plant 
with women as well as with men ; that the planta- 
tion may spread into generations, and not be ever 
pieced from without. It is the sinfullest thing in 
the world, to forsake or destitute a plantation once 
in forwardness ; for, besides the dishonor, it is the 
guiltiness of blood of many commiserable persons. 

1 Gewgaws, or spangles. 



OF RICHES. 207 



XXXIV. — OF RICHES. 

I CANNOT Ctall riches better than the baggage of 
virtue ; the Roman word is better, '' impedimenta ; " 
for as the baggage is to an army, so is riches to virtue ; 
it cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth 
the march ; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth 
or disturbeth the victory. Of great riches there is 
no real use, except it be in the distribution ; the rest 
is but conceit. So saith Solomon : *' Where much is, 
there are many to consume it; and what hath the 
owner, but the sight of it with his eyes?"i The 
personal fruition in any man cannot reach to feel 
great riches : there is a custody of them, or a power 
of dole and donative of them, or a fame of them, but 
no solid use to the owner. Do you not see what 
feigned prices are set upon little stones and rarities ? 
and what works of ostentation are undertaken, be- 
cause there might seem to be some use of great 
riches ? But then you will say, they may be of use 
to buy men out of dangers or troubles ; as Solomon 
saith : " Riches are as a strong-hold in the imagina- 
tion of the rich man ; " ^ but this is excellently ex- 

1 He alludes to Ecclesiastes v. 11, the words of which are some- 
what varied in our version: *'When goods increase, they are in- 
creased that eat them ; and what good is there to the owners thereof, 
saving the beholding of them with their eyes ? " 

2 ««The rich man's wealth is his strong city. " — Prowr&s x. 15 ; 
xviii. 11. 



208 ESSAYS. 

pressed, that it is in imagination, and not always in 
fact ; for, certainly, great riches have sold more men 
than they have bought out. Seek not proud riches, 
but such as thou mayest get justly, use soberly, dis- 
tribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly ; yet have 
no abstract nor friarly contempt of them, but distin- 
guish, as Cicero saith well of Rabirius Posthumus : 
" In studio rei amplificandeD apparebat, non ava- 
ritiae prsedam, sed instrumentum bonitati quseri." ^ 
Hearken also to Solomon, and beware of hasty 
gathering of riches : " Qui festinat ad divitias, non 
erit insons."^ The poets feign, that when Plutus 
(which is riches) is sent from Jupiter, he limps, 
and goes slowly; but when he is sent from Pluto, 
he runs, and is swift of foot ; meaning, that riches 
gotten by good means and just labor pace slowly.; 
but when they come by the death of others^ (as by 
the course of inheritance, testaments, and the like), 
they come tumbling upon a man. But it might be 
applied likewise to Pluto, taking him for the devil ; 
for when riches come from the devil (as by fraud 
and oppression, and unjust means), they come upon 
speed. The ways to enrich are many, and most of 

1 "In his anxiety to increase his fortune, it was evident that 
not the gratification of avarice was sought, but the meanc of doing 
good." 

2 "He who hastens to riches will not be without guilt." In 
our version the words are: "He that niaketh haste to be rich 
shall not be innocent." — Proverbs xxviii. 22. 

2 Pluto being the king of the infernal regions, or place of de- 
parted spirits. 



OF RICHES. 209 

them foul : parsimony is one of the best, and yet 
is not innocent ; for it withholdeth men from works 
of liberality and charity. The improvement of the 
ground is the most natural obtaining of riches; for 
it is our great mother's blessing, the earth's, but it 
is slow; and yet, where men of great wealth do 
stoop to husbandry, it multiplieth riches exceed- 
ingly. I knew a nobleman, in England, that had 
the greatest audits ^ of any man in my time, a great 
grazier, a great sheep-master, a great timber-man, 
a great collier, a great corn-master, a great lead- 
man, and so of iron, and a number of the like 
points of husbandry ; so as the earth seemed a sea 
to him in respect of the perpetual importation. It 
was truly observed by one, "That himself came 
very hardly to a little riches, and very easily to 
great riches ; " for when a man's stock is come to 
that, that he can expect the prime of markets,^ and 
overcome those bargains, which for their greatness 
are few men's money, and be partner in the indus- 
tries of younger men, he cannot but increase mainly. 
The gains of ordinary trades and vocations are 
honest, and furthered by two things, chiefly: by 
diligence, and by a good name for good and fair 
dealing; but the gains of bargains are of a more 
doubtful nature, when men shall wait upon others' 
necessity : broke by servants and instruments to 
draw them on ; put off" others cunningly that would 

^ Rent-roll, or account taken of Income. 
2 Wait till prices have risen. 
14 



210 ESSAYS. 

be better cbapmen ; and the like practices, which 
are crafty and naught. As for the chopping of 
bargains, when a man buys not to hold, but to sell 
over again, that commonly grindeth double, both 
upon the seller and upon the buyer. Sharings do 
greatly enrich, if the hands be well chosen that are 
trusted. Usury is the certainest means of gain, 
though one of the worst ; as that whereby a man 
doth eat his bread, " in sudore vidtiis alieni ; " ^ 
and, besides, doth plough upon Sundays; but yet 
certain though it be, it hath flaws, for that the scriv- 
eners and brokers do value unsound men to serve 
their own turn. The fortune, in being the first in 
an invention, or in a pri\^lege, doth cause some- 
times a wonderful overgrowth in riches, as it was 
with the first sugar-man ^ in the Canaries; there- 
fore, if a man can play the true logician, to have as 
Avell judgment as invention, he may do great mat- 
ters, especially if the times be fit. He that resteth 
upon gains certain, shall hardly grow to great riches ; 
and he that puts all upon adventures, doth often- 
times break and come to poverty ; it is good, there- 
fore, to guard adventures with certainties that may 
uphold losses. Monopolies, and coemption of wares 
for resale, where they are not restrained, are great 
means to enrich; especially if the party have intel- 
ligence what things are like to come into request, 

1 "In the sweat of another's brow." He alludes to the words 
of Genesis iii. 19 : "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." 

2 Planter of sugar-canes. 



OF KICHES. 211 

and so store himself beforehand. Riches gotten by 
service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they 
are gotten by flattery, feeding humors, and other 
servile conditions, they may be placed amongst the 
worst. As for fishing for testaments and execu- 
torships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, ''Testamenta 
et orbos tanquam indagine capi"),^ it is yet worse, 
by how much men submit themselves to meaner 
persons than in service. Believe not much them 
that seem to despise riches, for they despise them 
that despair of them; and none worse when they 
come to them. Be not penny-wise; riches have 
wings, and sometimes they fly away of themselves, 
sometimes they must be set flying to bring in more. 
Men leave their riches either to their kindred, or 
to the public ; and moderate portions prosper best 
in both. A great state left to an heir, is as a lure 
to all the birds of prey round about to seize on him, 
if he be not the better stablished in years and judg- 
ment ; likewise, glorious gifts and foundations are 
like sacrifices without salt, and but the painted 
sepulchres of alms, which soon will putrefy and cor- 
rupt inwardly. Therefore, measure not thine ad- 
vancements by quantity, but frame them by measure, 
and defer not charities till death; for, certainly, 
if a man weigh it rightly, he that doth so is rather 
liberal of another man's than of his own. 

1 "Wills and childless persons were caught hy Mni, as though 
with a hunting-net." — Tacit. Ann. xiii. 42. 



212 ESSAYS. 



XXXV. — OF PROPHECIES. 

I MEAN not to speak of divine prophecies, nor of 
heathen oracles, nor of natural predictions ; but only 
of prophecies that have been of certain memory, and 
from hidden causes. Saith the Pythonissa^ to Saul, 
"To-morrow thou and thy sons shall be with me." 
Virgil hath these verses from Homer : — 

"Hie domus ^Enese cnnctis dorainabitur oris, 
Et nati natorum, et qui nascentur ab illis." ^ 

A prophecy, as it seems, of the Roman empire. 
Seneca the tragedian hath these verses: — 

'* Venient annis 
Ssecula seris, quibus Oceanus 
Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens 
Pateat Tellus, Tiphysque novos 
Detegat orbes ; nee sit terris 
Ultima Thule." 3 

A prophecy of the discovery of America. The 

1 *' Pythoness," used in the sense of witeh. He alludes to the 
witch of Endor, and the words in Samuel xxviii. 19. He is, how- 
ever, mistaken in attributing these words to the witch : it was the 
spirit of Samuel that said, "To-morrow shalt thou and thy sons 
be with me." 

2 "But the house of ^neas shall reign over every shore, both 
his children's children, and those who shall spring from them." — 
^n. iii. 97. 

8 "After the lapse of years, ages will come in which Ocean 
shall relax his chains around the world, and a vast continent shall 
appear, and Tiphys shall explore new regions, and Thule shall be 
no longer the utmost verge of earth." ~ Sen. Med. ii. 375. 



OF PROPHECIES. 213 

daughter of Polycrates ^ dreamed that Jupiter bathed 
her father, and Apollo anointed him ; and it came to 
pass that he was crucified in an open place, where 
the sun made his body run with sweat, and the rain 
washed it. Philip of Macedon dreamed he sealed 
up his wife's belly, whereby he did expound it, 
that his wife should be barren ; but Aristander the 
soothsayer told him his wife was with child, because 
men do not use to seal vessels that are empty.^ A 
phantasm that appeared to M. Brutus in his tent, 
said to him, " Philippis iterum me videbis." ^ Tibe- 
rius said to Galba, " Tu quoque, Galba, degustabis 
imperium." ^ In Vespasian's time, there went a 
prophecy in the East, that those that should come 
forth of Judea, should reign over the world; which, 
though it may be was meant of our Saviour, yet Ta- 
citus expounds it of Vespasian.^ Domitian dreamed, 
the night before he was slain, that a golden head 
was growing out of the nape of his neck ; ^ and, 
indeed, the succession that followed him, for many 
years, made golden times. Henry the Sixth of Eng- 

1 He was king of Samos, and was treacherously put to death by 
Orcetes, the governor of Magnesia, in Asia Minor. His daughter, 
in consequence of her dream, attempted to dissuade him from 
visiting Orcetes, but in vain. — Herod, iii. 124. 

2 Plut. Vit. Alex. 2. 

8 "Thou shalt see me again at Philippi." — Appian Bell. Civ. 
iv. 134. 

* ** Thou, also, Galba, shalt taste of empire." — Suet. Vit. 
Gall. 4. 

6 Hist. V. 13. 

« Suet. vit. Domit. 23. 



214 ESSAYS. 

land said of Henry the Seventh, when he was a lad, 
and gave him water, "This is the lad that shall enjoy 
the crown for which we strive." When I was in 
France, I heard from one Dr. Pena, that the queen 
mother,^ who was given to curious arts, caused the 
king her husband's nativity to be calculated under a 
false name; and the astrologer gave a judgment, 
that he should be killed in a duel; at which the 
queen laughed, thinking her husband to be above 
challenges and duels ; but he was slain upon a course 
at tilt, the splinters of the staif of Montgomery 
going in at his beaver. The trivial prophecy which 
I heard when I was a child, and Queen Elizabeth 
was in the flower of her years, was, 

*' When hempe is spunne, 
England 's done ; " 

whereby it was generally conceived, that after the 
princes had reigned which had the principal letters 
of that word hempe (which were Henry, Edward, 
Mary, Philip, and Elizabeth), England should come 
to utter confusion ; which, thanks be to God, is veri- 
fied only in the change of the name ; for that the 
king's style is now no more of England, but of 
Britain.^ There was also another prophecy before 
the year of eighty-eight, which I do not well under- 
stand. 

1 Catherine de Medicis, the wife of Henry II. of France, who 
died from a wound accidentally received in a tournament. 

2 James I. beingr the first monarch of Great Britain. 



OF PROPHECIES. 215 

** There shall be seen upon a day, 
Between tlie Baugli and the May, 
The black fleet of Norway. 
When that that is come and gone, 
England build houses of lime and stone, 
For after wars you shall have none." 

It was generally conceived to be meant of the Span- 
isli fleet that came in eighty-eight ; for that the king 
of Spain's surname, as they say, is Norway. The 
prediction of Regiomontanus, 

*' Octogesimus octavus mirabilis annus," ^ 

was thought likewise accomplished in the sending 
of that great fleet, being the greatest in strength, 
though not in number, of all that ever swam upon 
the sea. As for Cleon's dream ,2 I think it was a 
jest ; it was, that he was devoured of a long dragon ; 
and it was expounded of a maker of sausages, that 
troubled him exceedingly. There are numbers of 

1 "The eighty-eighth will be a wondrous year." 

2 " Aristophanes, in his Comedy of the Knights, satirizes Cleon, 
the Athenian demagogue. He introduces a declaration of the 
oracle, that the Eagle of hides (by whom Cleon was meant, his 
father having been a tanner), should be conquered by a serpent, 
which Demosthenes, one of the characters in the play, expounds 
as meaning a maker of sausages. How Lord Bacon could for a 
moment doubt that this was a mere jest, it is difficult to conjec- 
ture. The following is a literal translation of a portion of the 
passage from The Knights {1. 197) : "But when a leather eagle 
with crooked talons shall have seized with its jaws a serpent, a 
stupid creature, a drinker of blood, then the tan-pickle of the 
Paphlagonians is destroyed ; but upon the sellers of sausages 
the deity bestows great glory, unless they choose rather to sell 
sausages." 



216 ESSAYS. 

the like kind, especially if you include dreams, and 
predictions of astrology ; but I have set down these 
few only of certain credit, for example. My judg- 
ment is, that they ought all to be despised, and ought 
to serve but for winter talk by the fireside ; though, 
when I say despised, I mean it as for belief; for 
otherwise, the spreading or publishing of them is in 
no sort to be despised, for they have done much 
mischief; and I see many severe laws made to 
suppress them. That that hath given them grace, 
and some credit, consisteth in three things. First, 
that men mark when they hit, and never mark 
when they miss ; ^ as they do, generally, also of 
dreams. The second is, that probable conjectures, 
or obscure traditions, many times turn themselves 
into prophecies; while the nature of man, which 
coveteth divination, thinks it no peril to foretell 
that which indeed they do but collect, as that of 
Seneca's verse ; for so much was then subject to 
demonstration, that the globe of the earth had great 
parts beyond the Atlantic, which might be probably 
conceived not to be all sea ; and adding thereto the 
tradition in Plato's Timseus, and his Atlanticus,^ it 

1 This is a very just remark. So-called strange coincidences, 
and wonderful dreams that are verified, when the point is con- 
sidered, are really not at all marvellous. We never hear of the 
999 dreams that are not verified, but the thousandth that hap- 
pens to precede its fulfilment is blazoned by unthinking people 
as a marvel. It would be a much more wonderful thing if dreams 
were not occasionally verified. 

2 Under this name he alludes to the Critias of Plato, in which 
an imaginary "terra incognita" is discoursed of under the name 



OF AMBITION. 217 

might encourage one to turn it to a prediction. 
The third and last (which is the great one), is, that 
almost all of them, being infinite in number, have 
been impostures, and, by idle and crafty brains, 
merely contrived and feigned, after the event past. 



XXXVI. — OF AMBITION. 

Ambition is like choler, which is a humor that 
maketh men active, earnest, full of alacrity, and 
stirring, if it be not stopped ; but if it be stopped, 
and cannot have its way, it becometh adust,^ and 
thereby malign and venomous. So ambitious men, 
if they find the way open for their rising, and still 
get forward, they are rather busy than dangerous ; 
but if they be checked in their desires, they be- 
come secretly discontent, and look upon men and 
matters with an evil eye, and are best pleased 
when things go backward ; which is the worst prop- 
erty in a servant of a prince or state. Therefore, 
it is good for princes, if they use ambitious men, to 
handle it so, as they be still progressive, and not 
retrograde ; which, because it cannot be without 
inconvenience, it is good not to use such natures 

of the "New Atlantis." It lias been conjectured from this by- 
some, that Plato really did believe in the existence of a continent 
on the other side of the globe. 
1 Hot and fiery. 



218 ESSAYS. 

at all ; for if they rise not with their service, they 
will take order to make their service fall with them. 
But since we have said, it were good not to use men 
of ambitious natures, except it be upon necessity, it 
is fit we speak in what cases they are of necessity. 
Good commanders in the wars must be taken, be 
they never so ambitious ; for the use of their ser- 
vice dispenseth with the rest ; and to take a soldier 
without ambition, is to pull off his spurs. There 
is also great use of ambitious men in being screens 
to princes in matters of danger and envy; for no 
man will take that part, except he be like a seeled ^ 
dove, that mounts and mounts, because he cannot 
see about him. There is use, also, of ambitious 
men, in pulling down the greatness of any subject 
that overtops ; as Tiberius used Macro ^ in the 
pulling down of Sejanus. Since, therefore, they 
must be used in such cases, there resteth to speak 
how they are to be bridled, that they may be less 
dangerous. There is less danger of them if they 
be of mean birth, than if they be noble ;. and if 
they be rather harsh of nature, than gracious and 
popular ; and if they be rather new raised, than 
grown cunning and fortified in their greatness. It 
is counted by some a weakness in princes to have 
favorites ; but it is, of all others, the best remedy 

1 With the eyes closed or blindfolded. 

2 He was a favorite of Tiberius, to whose murder by Nero he 
was said to have been an accessary. He afterwards prostituted his 
own wife to Caligula, by whom he was eventually put to death. 



OF AMBITION. 219 

against ambitious great ones ; for when the way of 
pleasuring and displeasuring lieth by the favorite, 
it is impossible any other should be over-great. 
Another means to curb them, is, to balance them by 
others as proud as they ; but then there must be 
some middle counsellors, to keep things steady, for 
without that ballast, the ship will roll too much. 
At the least, a prince may animate and inure some 
meaner persons to be, as it were, scourges to ambi- 
tious men. As for the having of them obnoxious 
to 1 ruin, if they be of fearful natures, it may do 
well ; but if they be stout and daring, it may pre- 
cipitate their designs, and prove dangerous. As for 
the pulling of them down, if the affairs require it, 
and that it may not be done with safety suddenly, 
the only way is, the interchange continually of 
favors and disgraces, whereby they may not know 
what to expect, and be, as it were, in a wood. Of 
ambitions, it is less harmful the ambition to prevail 
in great things, than that other to appear in every 
thing ; for that breeds confusion, and mars busi- 
ness ; but yet, it is less danger to have an ambitious 
man stirring in business, than great in dependen- 
cies. He that seeketh to be eminent amongst able 
men, hath a great task, but that is ever good for 
the public ; but he that plots to be the only figure 
amongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age. 
Honor hath three things in it : the vantage-ground 
to do good ; the approach to kings and principal 

1 Liable to. 



220 ESSAYS. 

persons; and the raising of a man's own fortunes. 
He that hath the best of these intentions, when he 
aspireth, is an honest man ; and that prince that 
can discern of these intentions in another that as- 
pireth, is a wise prince. Generally, let princes and 
states choose such ministers as are more sensible of 
duty than of rising, and such as love business rather 
upon conscience than upon bravery ; and let them 
discern a busy nature from a willing mind. 



XXXVII. — OF MASQUES AND TRIUMPHS. 

These things are but toys to come amongst such 
serious observations ; but yet, since princes will 
have such things, it is better they should be graced 
with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to 
song is a thing of great state and pleasure. I un- 
derstand it that the song be in choir, placed aloft, 
and accompanied with some broken music, and the 
ditty fitted to the device. Acting in song, especially 
in dialogues, hath an extreme good grace ; I say 
acting, not dancing (for that is a mean and vulgar 
thing) ; and the voices of the dialogue would be 
strong and manly (a base and a tenor, no treble), 
and the ditty high and tragical, not nice or dainty. 
Several choirs, placed one over against another, and 
taking the voices by catches anthem-wise, give great 
pleasure. Turning dances into figure is a childish 



OF MASQUES AND TRIUMPHS. 221 

curiosity ; and, generally, let it be noted, that those 
thinsrs which I here set down are such as do natu- 
rally take the sense, and not respect petty wonder- 
ments. It is true, the alterations of scenes, so it be 
quietly and without noise, are things of great beauty 
and pleasure : for they feed and relieve the eye 
before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes 
abound with light, specially colored and varied ; 
and let the masquers, or any other that are to come 
down from the scene, have some motions upon the 
scene itself before their coming down ; for it draws 
the eye strangely, and makes it with, great pleasure 
to desire to see that it cannot perfectly discern. Let 
the songs be loud and cheerful, and not chirpings 
or pulings ; ^ let the music, likewise, be sharp and 
loud, and well placed. The colors that show best 
by candlelight, are white, carnation, and a kind of 
sea-water green ; and ouches,^ or spangs,^ as they 
are of no great cost, so they are of most glory. As 
for rich embroidery, it is lost and not discerned. 
Let the suits of the masquers be graceful, and such 
as become the person when the vizors are off; not 
after examples of known attires, Turks, soldiers, 
mariners, and the like. Let anti-masques* not be 

1 Chirpings like the noise of young birds. 

2 Jewels or necklaces. 

3 Spangles, or O's of gold or silver. Beckmann says that these 
were invented in the beginning of the seventeenth century. See 
Beckmann's Hist, of Inventions (Bohn's Stand. Lib.), vol. i. 
p. 424. 

* Or antic-masques. These were ridiculous interludes dividing 



222 ESSAYS. 

long; they have been commonly of fools^ satyrs, 
baboons, wild men, antics, beasts, sprites, witches, 
Ethiopes, pigmies, turquets,-^ nymphs, rustics, Cu- 
pids, statues moving, and the like. As for angels, 
it is not comical enough to put them in anti-masques ; 
and any thing that is hideous, as devils, giants, is, 
on the other side, as unfit ; but, chiefly, let the mu- 
sic of them be recreative, and with some strange 
changes. Some sweet odors suddenly coming forth, 
without any drops falling, are, in such a company 
as there is steam and heat, things of great pleasure 
and refreshment. Double masques, one of men, 
another of ladies, addeth state and variety ; but all 
is nothing, except the room be kept clear and neat. 

For justs, and tourneys, and barriers, the glories 
of them are chiefly in the chariots, wherein the chal- 
lengers make their entry ; especially if they be drawn 
with strange beasts, as lions, bears, camels, and the 
like ; or in the devices of their entrance, or in the 
bravery of their liveries, or in the goodly furniture of 
their horses and armor. But enough of these toys. 

the acts of the more serious masque. These were performed by- 
hired actors, while the masque was played by ladies and gen- 
tlemen. The rule was, the characters were to be neither serious 
nor hideous. The "Comus" of Milton is an admirable specimen 
of a masque. 
1 Turks. 



OF NATURE IN MEN. 223 



XXXVIIL — OF NATURE IN MEN. 

Nature is often hidden, sometimes overcome, sel- 
dom extinguished. Force maketh nature more vio- 
lent in the return; doctrine and discourse maketh 
nature less importune, but custom only doth alter 
and subdue nature. He that seeketh victory over 
his nature, let him not set himself too great nor too 
small tasks ; for the first will make him dejected by 
often failings, and the second will make him a small 
proceeder, though by often prevailings. And at the 
first, let him practise with helps, as swimmers do 
with bladders, or rushes ; but, after a time, let him 
practise with disadvantages, as dancers do with thick 
shoes ; for it breeds great perfection, if the practice 
be harder than the use. Where nature is mighty, 
and therefore the victory hard, the degrees had need 
be, first, to stay and arrest nature in time ; like to 
him that would say over the four and twenty letters 
when he was angry ; then to go less in quantity : as 
if one should, in forbearing wine, come from drinking 
healths to a draught at a meal ; and, lastly, to dis- 
continue altogether ; but if a man have the fortitude 
and resolution to enfranchise himself at once, that is 
the best : — 

*' Optimus ille animi vindex Isedentia pectus 
Vincula qui nipit, dedoluitque semel." i 

1 '• He is the best asserter of the liberty of his mind, who bursts 
the chains that gall his breast, and at the same moment ceases to 
grieve." — This quotation is from Ovid's Remedy of Love, 293. 



224 ESSAYS. 

Neither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature as 
a wand to a contrary extreme, whereby to set it 
right ; understanding it where the contrary extreme 
is no \nce. Let not a man force a habit upon him- 
self ^vith a perpetual continuance, but with some 
intermission, for both the pause reinforceth the new 
onset ; and if a man that is not perfect be ever in 
practice, he shall as well practise his errors as his 
abilities, and induce one habit of both ; and there is 
no means to help this but by seasonable intermis- 
sions. But let not a n^an trust his victory over his 
nature too far ; for nature will lie buried a great 
time, and yet revive upon the occasion or tempta- 
tion ; like as it was with yEsop's damsel, turned 
from a cat to a woman, who sat very demurely at the 
board's end till a mouse ran before her. Therefore, 
let a man either avoid the occasion altogether, or put 
himself often to it, that he may be little moved with 
it. A man's nature is best perceived in privateness, 
for there is no affectation ; in passion, for that put- 
teth a man out of his precepts ; and in a new case 
or experiment, for there custom leaveth him. They 
are happy men whose natures sort with their voca- 
tions; otherwise they may say, ^^Multum incola fuit 
anima mea," ^ when they converse in those things 
they do not affect. In studies, whatsoever a man 
commandeth upon himself, let him set hours for it : 
but whatsoever is agreeable to his nature, let him 
take no care for any set times ; for his thoughts will 

1 ** My soul has long been a sojourner." 



OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION. 225 

fly to it of themselves, so as the spaces of other busi- 
ness or studies will suffice. A man's nature runs 
cither to herbs or weeds ; therefore, let him seasona- 
bly water the one, and destroy the other. 



XXXIX.— OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATIOK 

Men's thoughts are much according to their incli- 
nation ; ^ their discourse and speeches according to 
their learning and infused opinions ; but their deeds 
are, after, as they have been accustomed ; and, there- 
fore, as Machiavel well noteth (though in an evil- 
favored instance), there is no trusting to the force of 
nature, nor to the bravery of words, except it be cor- 
roborate by custom.*^ His instance is, that, for the 
achieving of a desperate conspiracy, a man should 
not rest upon the fierceness of any man's nature, or 
his resolute undertakings, but take such a one as 
hath had his hands formerly in blood ; but Machiavel 
knew not of a Friar Clement,^ nor a Ravaillac,* nor a 

1 **The wish is father to the thought," is a proverbial saying 
of similar meaning, 

2 Vide Disc. Sop. Liv. iii. 6. 

^ Jaccpies Clement, a Dominican friar, who assassinated Henry 
III. of France, in 1589. The sombre fanatic was but twenty-five 
year of age ; and he had announced the intention of killing with 
his own hands the great enemy of his faith. He was instigated by 
the Leaguers, and particularly by the Duchess of ]\Iontpensier, the 
sister of the Duke of Guise. 

* He murdered Henry IV. of France, in 1610. 
15 



226 ESSAYS. 

Jaureguy/ nor a Baltazar Gerard ; ^ yet his rule 
holdeth still, that nature, nor the engagement of 
words, are not so forcible as custom. Only super- 
stition is now so well advanced, that men of the first 
blood are as firm as butchers by occupation ; and 
votary ^ resolution is made equipollent to custom, 
even in matter of blood. In other things, the pre- 
dominancy of custom is everywhere visible, insomuch 
as a man would wonder to hear men profess, protest, 
engage, give great words, and then do just as they 
have done before, as if tliey were dead images and 
engines, moved only by the wheels of custom. "We 
see, also, the reign or tyranny of custom, what it is. 
The Indians ^ (I mean the sect of their wise men) 
lay themselves quietly upon a stack of wood, and so 
sacrifice themselves by fire ; nay, the wives strive to 
be burned with the corpses of their husbands. The 
lads of Sparta, of ancient time, were wont to be 
scourged upon the altar of Diana, without so much 
as quecking.^ I remember, in the beginning of 
Queen Elizabeth's time of England, an Irish rebel 
condemned, put up a petition to the deputy that he 

1 Philip II. of Spain having, in 1582, set a price upon the head 
of William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, the leader of the Prot- 
estants, Jaureguy attempted to assassinate him, and severely 
wounded him. 

^ He assassinated William of Nassau, in 15S4. It is supposed 
that this fanatic meditated the crime for six years. 

^ A resolution prompted by a vow of devotion to a particular 
principle or creed. 

* He alludes to the Hindoos, and the ceremony of Suttee, en- 
couraged by the Brahmins. 

5 Flinching. — Vide Cic. Tuscul. Disp. ii. 14. 



OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION. 227 

might be hanged in a withe, and not in a halter, 
because it had been so used with former rebels. 
There be monks in Russia for penance, that will sit 
a whole night in a vessel of water, till they be 
engaged with hard ice. ^lany examples may be put 
of the force of custom, both upon mind and body ; 
therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate of 
man's life, let men, by all means, endeavor to obtain 
good customs. Certainly, custom is most perfect 
when it beginneth in young years : this we call edu- 
cation, which is, in effect, but an early custom. So 
we see, in languages, the tongue is more pliant to all 
expressions and sounds, the joints are more supple to 
all feats of activity and motions in youth, than after- 
wards ; for it is true, that late learners cannot so 
well take the ply, except it be in some minds that 
have not suffered themselves to fix, but have kept 
themselves open and prepared to receive continual 
amendment, which is exceeding rare. But if the 
force of custom, simple and separate, be great, the 
force of custom, copulate and conjoined and colleg- 
iate, is far greater ; for there example teacheth, 
company comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory 
raiseth ; so as in such places the force of custom is 
in his exaltation. Certainly, the great multiplication 
of virtues upon human nature resteth upon societies 
well ordained and disciplined ; for commonwealths 
and good governments do nourish virtue grown, but 
do not much mend the seeds ; but the misery is, that 
the most effectual means are now applied to the ends 
least to be desired. 



228 ESSAYS. 



XL. — OF FORTUNE. 

It cannot be denied, but outward accidents con- 
duce much to fortune ; favor, opportunity, death of 
others, occasion fitting virtue ; but, chiefly, the mould 
of a man's fortune is in his own hands : " Faber 
quisque fortunae suae," ^ saith the poet ; and the most 
frequent of external causes, is that the folly of one 
man is the fortune of another ; for no man prospers 
so suddenly as by others' errors. "Serpens nisi 
serpentem comederit non fit draco." ^ Overt and 
apparent virtues bring forth praise : but there be 
secret and hidden virtues that bring forth fortune ; 
certain deliveries of a man's self, which have no 
name. The Spanish name, " disemboltura," ^ partly 
expresseth them, when there be not stonds* nor 
restiveness in a man's nature, but that the wheels 

1 "Every man is the architect of his own fortune." Sallust, 
in his letters "De Republica Ordinanda," attributes these words 
to Appius Claudius Csecus, a Roman poet whose works are now 
lost. Lord Bacon, in the Latin translation of his Essays, which 
was made under his supervision, rendered the word "poet" 
"comicus ;" by whom he probably meant Plautus, who has this 
line in his " Trinummus " (Act ii, sc. 2) : " Nam sapiens quidem 
pol ipsus fingit fortunam sibi," which has the same meaning, 
though in somewhat different terms. 

2 "A serpent, unless it has devoured a serpent, does not become 
a dragon." 

^ Or " desenvoltura," implying readiness to adapt one's self to 
circumstances. 

* Impediments, causes for hesitation. 



OF FORTUNE. 229 

of his mind keep way with the wheels of his for- 
tune; for so Livy (after he had described Cato 
Major in these words, " In illo viro, tantum robur 
corporis et animi fuit, ut quocunque loco natus esset, 
fortunam sibi facturus videretur,") ^ falleth upon that, 
that he had '* versatile ingenium : " ^ therefore, if a 
man look sharply and attentively, he shall see For- 
tune ; for though she be blind, yet she is not in- 
visible. The way of Fortune is like the milky way 
in the sky ; which is a meeting, or knot, of a number 
of small stars, not seen asunder, but giving light 
together ; so are there a number of little and scarce 
discerned virtues, or rather faculties and customs, 
that make men fortunate. The Italians note some 
of them, such as a man would little think. When 
they speak of one that cannot do amiss, they will 
throw in into his other conditions, that he hath 
" Poco di matto ; " ^ and, certainly, there be not two 
more fortunate properties, than to have a little of 
the fool, and not too much of the honest; there- 
fore, extreme lovers of their country, or masters, 
were never fortunate ; neither can they be, for when 
a man place th his thoughts without himself, he goeth 
not his own way. A hasty fortune maketh an enter- 
priser and remover (the French hath it better, 
" entreprenant," or " remnant ") ; but the exercised 

^ ** In that man there was such great strength of body and mind, 
that, in whatever station he had been born, he seemed as though 
he should make his fortune." 

2 **A versatile genius." ^ "A little of the fool." 



230 ESSAYS. 

fortune maketh the able man. Fortune is to be 
honored and respected, and it be but for her daugh- 
ters, Confidence and Reputation ; for those two Fe- 
licity breedeth; the first within a man's self, the 
latter in others towards him. All wise men, to 
decline the envy of their own virtues, use to ascribe 
them to Providence and Fortune ; for so they may 
the better assume them ; and, besides, it is great- 
ness in a man to be the care of the higher powers. 
So Csesar said to the pilot in the tempest, " Ceesarem 
portas, et fortunam ejus." ^ So Sylla chose the 
name of " Felix," ^ and not of "Magnus;"^ and it 
hath been noted, that those who ascribe openly too 
much to their own wisdom and policy, end unfortu- 
nate. It is written, that Timotheus * the Athenian, 
after he had, in the account he gave to the state of 
his government, often interlaced his speech, "and 
in this Fortune had no part," never prospered in any 
thing he undertook afterwards. Certainly there be, 
whose fortunes are like Homer's verses, that have 
a slide ^ and easiness more than the verses of other 
poets ; as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's fortune in re- 
spect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminondas ; and that 
this should be, no doubt it is much in a man's self. 

1 " Thou carriest Caesar and his fortunes." — Plut. Tit. Ccels. 38. 

2 *' The Fortunate." He attributed his success to the inter- 
vention of Hercules, to whom he paid especial veneration. 

3 "The Great." — P/m^. Syll. 34. 

4 A successful Athenian general, the son of Conon, and the 
friend of Plato. 

s Fluency, or smoothness. 



OF USURY. 231 



XLL — OF USURY.i 

Many have made witty invectives against usury. 
They say that it is pity the devil should have God's 
part, which is the tithe ; that the usurer is the great 
est Sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every 
Sunday; that the usurer is the drone that Virgil 
speaketh of: — 

** Ignavum fucos peons a prsesepibus arcent ; " 2 

that the usurer breaketh the first law that was made 
for mankind after the fall, which was, "in sudore 
vultus tui comedes paneni tuum ; " ^ not, '' in sudore 
vultds alieni ; " * that usurers should have orange- 
tawny ^ bonnets, because they do Judaize ; that it is 
against nature for money to beget money, and the 
like. I say this only, that usury is a " concessum 
propter duritiem cordis ; " ^ for, since there must be 
borrowing and lending, and men are so hard of 
heart as they will not lend freely, usury must be 

1 Lord Bacon seems to use the word in the general sense of 
"lending money upon interest." 

2 *' Drive from their hives the drones, a lazy race." — Georgics, 
h. iv. 168. 

3 "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat thy bread." — Gen. 
iii. 19. 

* "In the sweat of the face of another." 

5 In the middle ages the Jews were compelled, by legal enact- 
ment, to wear peculiar dresses and colors ; one of these was orange. 

^ *' A concession by reason of hardness of heart." He alludes 
to the words in St. Matthew xix. 8. 



232 ESSAYS. 

permitted. Some others have made suspicious and 
cunning propositions of banks, discovery of men's 
estates, and other inventions ; but few have spoken 
of usury usefully. It is good to set before us the 
incommodities and commodities of usury, that the 
good may be either weighed out, or culled out ; and 
warily to provide, that, while we make forth to that 
which is better, we meet not with that which is 
worse. 

The discommodities of usury are, first, that it 
makes fewer merchants; for were it not for this 
lazy trade of usury, money would not lie still, but 
would, in great part, be employed upon merchan- 
dising, which is the ^' vena porta " ^ of wealth in a 
state. The second, that it makes poor merchants ; 
for as a farmer cannot husband his ground so well 
if he sit at a great rent, so the merchant cannot 
drive his trade so well if he sit^ at great usury. 
The third is incident to the other two ; and that is, 
the decay of customs of kings, or states, which ebb 
or flow with merchandising. The fourth, that it 
bringeth the treasure of a realm or state into a few 
hands ; for the usurer being at certainties, and others 
at uncertainties, at the end of the game most of the 
money will be in the box ; and ever a state flourish- 
eth when wealth is more equally spread. The fifth, 
that it beats down the price of land ; for the em- 
ployment of money is chiefly either merchandising 
or purchasing, and usury waylays both. The sixth, 

1 See note to Essay xix. 2 Hold. 



OF USURY. 233 

that it doth dull and damp all industries, improve- 
ments, and new inventions, wherein money would 
be stirring, if it were not for this slug. The last, 
that it is the canker and ruin of many men's estates, 
which, in process of time, breeds a public poverty. 
On the other side, the commodities of usury are, 
first, that, howsoever usury in some respect hindereth 
merchandising, yet in some other it advanceth it ; 
for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is 
driven by young merchants upon borrowing at in- 
terest; so as if the usurer either call in, or keep 
back his money, there will ensue presently a great 
stand of trade. The second is, that, were it not for 
this easy borrowing upon interest, men's necessities 
would draw upon them a most sudden undoing, in 
that they would be forced to sell their means (be it 
lands or goods), far under foot ; and so, whereas 
usury doth but gnaw upon them, bad markets would 
swallow them quite up. As for mortgaging or 
pawning, it will little mend the matter; for either 
men will not take pawns without use, or, if they do, 
they will look precisely for the forfeiture. I re- 
member a cruel moneyed man in the country, that 
would say, " The devil take this usury, it keeps us 
from forfeitures of mortgages and bonds." The 
third and last is, that it is a vanity to conceive that 
there would be ordinary borrowing without profit; 
and it is impossible to conceive the number of 
inconveniences that will ensue, if borrowing be 
cramped. Therefore, to speak of the abolishing of 



234 • ESSAYS. 

usury is idle ; all states have ever had it in one kind 
or rate, or other; so as that opinion must be sent 
to Utopia.^ 

To speak now of the reformation and reglement^ 
of usury, how the discommodities of it may be best 
avoided, and the commodities retained. It appears, 
by the balance of commodities and discommodities 
of usury, two things are to be reconciled ; the one, 
that the tooth of usury be grinded, that it bite not 
too much ; the other, that there be left open a means 
to invite moneyed men to lend to the merchants, 
for the continuing and quickening of trade. This 
cannot be done, except you introduce two several 
sorts of usury, a less and a greater ; for if you 
reduce usury to one low rate, it will ease the com- 
mon borrower, but the merchant will be to seek for 
money; and it is to be noted that the trade of 
merchandise being the most lucrative, may bear 
usury at a good rate ; other contracts not so. 

To serve both intentions, the way would be briefly 
thus : that there be two rates of usury ; the one 
free and general for all ; the other under license 
only to certain persons, and in certain places of 
merchandising. First, therefore, let usury in gen- 
eral be reduced to five in the hundred, and let that 
rate be proclaimed to be free and current; and let 
the state shut itself out to take any penalty for the 

1 The imaginary country described in Sir Thomas More's politi- 
cal romance of that name. 

2 Regulation. 



OF USURY. 235 

same. This will preserve borrowing from any gen- 
eral stop or dryness ; this will ease infinite borrow- 
ers in the country ; this will, in good part, raise the 
price of land, because land purchased at sixteen 
years' purchase will yield six in the hundred, and 
somewhat more, whereas this rate of interest yields 
but five. This, by like reason, will encourage and 
edge industrious and profitable improvements, be- 
cause many will rather venture in that kind, than 
take five in the hundred, especially having been 
used to greater profit. Secondly, let there be cer- 
tain persons licensed to lend to known merchants 
upon usury, at a higher rate, and let it be with the 
cautions following : Let the rate be, even with the 
merchant himself, somewhat more easy than that he 
used formerly to pay; for, by that means, all bor- 
rowers shall have some ease by this reformation, 
be he merchant, or whosoever ; let it be no bank or 
common stock, but every man be master of his own 
money; not that I altogether mislike banks, but 
they will hardly be brooked, in regard of certain 
suspicions. Let the state be answered ^ some small 
matter for the license, and the rest left to the lender ; 
for if the abatement be but small, it will no whit dis- 
courage the lender ; for he, for example, that took be- 
fore ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend 
to eight in the hundred, than give over his trade of 
usury, and go from certain gains to gains of hazard. 
Let these licensed lenders be in number indefinite, 

^ Be paid. 



236 ESSAYS. 

but restrained to certain principal cities and towns 
of merchandising ; for then they will be hardly able 
to color other men's moneys in the country, so as 
the license of nine will not suck away the current 
rate of five ; for no man will send his moneys far 
off, nor put them into unknown hands. 

If it be objected, that this doth in a sort author- 
ize usury, which before was in some places but 
permissive ; the answer is, that it is better to miti- 
gate usury by declaration, than to suffer it to rage 
by connivance.^ 

1 Our author was one of the earliest writers who treated the 
question of the interest of money with the enlightened views of 
a statesman and an economist. The taking of interest was con- 
sidered, in his time, immoral. 

Laws on this matter are extremely ancient. Moses forbids the 
Jews to require interest of each other. "Thou shalt not lend 
upon usury to thy brother ; usury of money, usury of victuals, 
usury of any thing that is lent upon usury : 

"Unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury; but unto thy 
brother thou shalt not lend upon usury."- — Deut. xxiii. 19, 20. 

Among the Greeks, the rate of interest was settled by agree- 
ment between the borrower and the lender, without any inter- 
ference of the law. The customary rate varied from ten to thirty- 
three and one third per cent. 

The Romans enacted laws againvSt usurious interest ; but their 
legal interest, admitted by the law of the Twelve Tables, was, 
according to some, twelve per cent., or, to others, one twelfth of 
the capital, i. e. eight and one third per cent. Justinian reduced 
it to six per cent. 

In England, the legal rate of interest was, in Henry the Eighth's 
reign, ten per cent. It was reduced, in 1624, to eight per cent. 
It was further diminished, in 1672, to six per cent. And defini- 
tively, in 1713, fixed at five per cent., the ordinary rate of interest 



OF YOUTH AND AGE. 237 



XLII. — OF YOUTH AND AGE. 

A MAN that is young in years may be old in 
hours, if he have lost no time ; but that happeneth 
rarely. Generally, youth is like the first cogitations, 
not so wise as the second; for there is a youth in 
thoughts as well as in ages ; and yet the invention 
of young men is more lively than that of old, and 
imaginations stream into their minds better, and, as 
it were, more divinely. Natures that have much 
heat, and great and violent desires and perturba- 
tions, are not ripe for action till they have passed 
the meridian of their years: as it was with Julius 
Csesar and Septimius Severus ; of the latter of whom 
it is said, " Juventutem egit erroribus, imo furoribus 
plenam;"! and yet he was the ablest emperor, 
almost, of all the list ; but reposed natures may do 
well in youth, as it is seen in Augustus Caesar, 
Cosmus Duke of Florence, Gaston de Foix/ and 
others. On the other side, heat and vivacity in age 
is an excellent composition for business. Young 
men are fitter to invent than to judge, fitter for 
execution than for counsel, and fitter for new pro- 

throughout Europe. In France, the rates of interest have been 
nearly similar at the same periods. 

1 "He passed his youth full of errors, of madness even." — 
Spartian. Vit. Sev. 

2 He was nephew of Louis the Twelfth of France, and com- 
manded the French armies in Italy against the Spaniards. After 
a brilliant career, he was killed at the battle of Kavenna, in 1512. 



238 ESSAYS. 

jects than for settled business; for the experience 
of age, in things that fall within the compass of it, 
directeth them; but in new things abuseth them. 
The errors of young men are the ruin of business ; 
but the errors of aged men amount but to this, that 
more might have been done, or sooner. 

Young men, in the conduct and manage of ac- 
tions, embrace more than they can hold, stir more 
than they can quiet ; fly to the end, without consid- 
eration of the means and degrees ; pursue some few 
principles which they have chanced upon absurdly ; 
care not to innovate, which draws unknown incon- 
veniences ; use extreme remedies at first ; and that, 
which doubleth all errors, will not acknowledge 
or retract them, like an unready horse, that will 
neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too much, 
consult too long, adventure too little, repent too 
soon, and seldom drive business home to the full 
period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of 
success. Certainly, it is good to compound employ- 
ments of both ; for that will be good for the pres- 
ent, because the virtues of either age may correct 
the defects of both ; and good for succession, that 
young men may be learners, while men in age are 
actors ; and, lastly, good for externe accidents, be- 
cause authority foUoweth old men, and favor and 
popularity youth; but, for the moral part, perhaps, 
youth will have the preeminence, as age hath for 
the politic. A certain rabbin, upon the text, " Your 
young men shall see visions, and your old men shall 



OF YOUTH AND AGE. 239 

dream dreams,"-^ iiiferretli that young men are ad- 
mitted nearer to God than old, because vision is a 
clearer revelation than a dream ; and, certainly, 
the more a man drinketh of the world, the more it 
intoxicateth ; and age doth profit rather in the pow- 
ers of understanding, than in the virtues of the 
will and affections. There be some have an over- 
early ripeness in their years, which fadeth betimes ; 
these are, first, such as have brittle wits, the edge 
whereof is soon turned ; such as was Hermogenes ^ 
the rhetorician, whose books are exceedingly subtle ; 
who afterwards waxed stupid. A second sort is of 
those that have some natural dispositions, which 
have better grace in youth than in ago ; such as is 
a fluent and luxuriant speech, which becomes youth 
well, but not age ; so Tully saith of Hortensius : 
" Idem manebat, neque idem decebat." ^ The third 
is of such as take too high a strain at the first, and 
are magnanimous more than tract of years can up- 
hold ; as was Scipio Africanus, of whom lAvj saith, 
in efiect, " Ultima primis cedebant." * 

1 Joel ii. 28, quoted Acts ii. 17. 

2 He lived in the second century after Christ, and is said to 
have lost his memory at the age of twenty-five. 

^ ** He remained the same, but with the advance of years was 
not so becoming." — Cic. Brut. 95. 

* "The close was unequal to the beginning." This quotation 
is not correct; the words are: " Memorabilior prima pars vit?e 
quam postrema fuit," — "The first part of his life was more dis- 
tinguished than the latter." — Livi/ xxxviii. ch. 63. 



240 ESSAYS. 



XLIIL — OF BEAUTY. 

Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set; and 
surely virtue is best in a body that is comely, though 
not of delicate features, and that hath rather dig- 
nity of presence than beauty of aspect ; neither is it 
always most seen, that very beautiful persons are other- 
wise of great virtue ; as if nature were rather busy 
not to err, than in labor to produce excellency ; and 
therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great 
spirit, and study rather behavior than virtue. But 
this holds not always; for Augustus Csesar, Titus 
Vespasianus, Philip le Bel of France, Edward the 
Fourth of England,^ Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael 
the Sophy of Persia, were all high and great spirits, 
and yet the most beautiful men of their times. In 
beauty, that of favor is more than that of color ; and 
that of decent and gracious motion, more than that 
of favor.2 That is the best part of beauty, which a 
picture cannot express ; no, nor the first sight of the 
life. There is no excellent beauty that hath not 
some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot 
tell whether Apelles, or Albert Durer, were the more 
trifler ; whereof the one would make a personage by 

1 By tlie context, lie would seem to consider "■ great spirit " 
and "virtue" as convertible terms. Edward IV., however, has 
no claim to be considered as a virtuous or magnanimous man, 
though he possessed great physical courage. 

2 Features. 



OF DEFORMITY. 241 

geometrical proportions ; the other, by taking the 
best parts out of divers faces to make one excellent. 
Such personages, I think, would please nobody but 
the painter that made them : not but I think a 
painter may make a better face than ever was ; but 
he must do it by a kind of felicity (as a musician 
that maketh an excellent air in music), and not by 
rule. A man shall see faces, that, if you examine 
them part by part, you shall find never a good, and 
yet altogether do well. If it be true that the prin- 
cipal part of beauty is in decent motion, certainly it 
is no marvel, though persons in years seem many 
times more amiable ; " Pulchrorum autumnus pul- 
cher ; " ^ for no youth can be comely but by pardon ,2 
and considering the youth as to make up the comeli- 
ness. Beauty is as summer fruits, which are easy 
to corrupt, and cannot last ; and, for the most part, 
it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of 
countenance ; but yet certainly again, if it light well, 
it maketh virtues shine, and vices blush. 



XLIV. — OF DEFORMITY. 

Deformed persons are commonly even with na- 
ture ; for, as nature hath done ill by them, so do they 
by nature, being for the most part (as the Scripture 

1 •* The autumn of the beautiful is beautiful." 

2 By making allowances. 

16 



242 ESSAYS. 

saith) " void of natural affection ; " ^ and so they 
have their revenge of nature. Certainly, there is a 
consent between the body and the mind, and where 
nature erreth in the one, she ventureth in the other : 
" Ubi peccat in uno, periclitatur in altero." '^ But 
because there is in man an election, touching the 
frame of his mind, and a necessity in the frame of his 
body, the stars of natural inclination are sometimes 
obscured by the sun of discipline and virtue ; there- 
fore, it is good to consider of deformity, not as a sign 
which is more deceivable, but as a cause which sel- 
dom faileth of the effect. Whosoever hath any thing 
fixed in his person that doth induce contempt, hath 
also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue and deliver 
himself from scorn ; therefore, all deformed persons 
are extreme bold ; first, as in their own defence, as 
being exposed to scorn, but, in process of time, by a 
general habit. Also, it stirreth in them industry, 
and especially of this kind, to watch and observe the 
weakness of others, that they may have somewhat to 
repay. Again, in their superiors, it quencheth jeal- 
ousy towards them, as persons that they think they 
may at pleasure despise ; and it layeth their competi- 
tors and emulators asleep, as never believing they 
should be in possibility of advancement till they see 
them in possession ; so that upon the matter, in a 
great wit, deformity is an advantage to rising. Kings 
in ancient times (and at this present in some coun- 

1 Rom. i. 31; 2 Tim. iii. 3. 

- " "Where she errs in the one, she ventures in the other." 



i 



OF BUILDING. 243 

tries) were wont to put great trust in eunuchs, 
because they that are envious towards all are more 
obnoxious and officious towards one ; but yet their 
trust towards them hath rather been as to good 
spials/ and good whisperers, than good magistrates 
and officers ; and much like is the reason of deformed 
persons. Still the ground is, they will, if they be 
of spirit, seek to free themselves from scorn, which 
must be either by virtue or malice ; and, therefore, 
let it not be marvelled, if sometimes they prove ex- 
cellent persons ; as was Agesilaiis, Zanger, the son 
of Solyman,^ ^sop, Gasca president of Peru; and 
Socrates may go likewise amongst them, with others. 



XLV.— OF BUILDING. 

Houses are built to live in, and not to look on, 
therefore, let use be preferred before uniformity, ex- 
cept where both may be had. Leave the goodly 
fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the enchanted 
palaces of the poets, who build them with small 
cost. He that builds a fair house upon an ill seat,^ 
committeth himself to prison; neither do I reckon 
it an ill seat only where the air is unwholesome, but 
likewise where the air is unequal. As you shall 
see many fine seats set upon a knap^ of ground 

1 Spies. 2 Solynian the Magnificent, Sultan of the Turks. 

8 Site. * Knoll. 



244 ESSAYS. 

environed with higher hills round about it, whereby 
the heat of the sun is pent in, and the wind gather- 
eth as in troughs ; so as you shall have, and that 
suddenly, as great diversity of heat and cold as if 
you dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air 
only that maketh an ill seat ; but ill ways, ill mar- 
kets, and, if you will consult with Momus,^ ill neigh- 
bors. I speak not of many more : want of water, 
want of wood, shade, and shelter, want of fruitful- 
ness, and mixture of grounds of several natures ; 
want of prospect, want of level grounds, want of 
places at some near distance for sports of hunting, 
hawking, and races ; too near the sea, too remote ; 
having the commodity of navigable rivers, or the 
discommodity of their overflowing ; too far off from 
great cities, which may hinder business ; or too near 
them, which lurcheth^ all provisions, and maketh 
every thing dear ; where a man hath a great living 
laid together, and where he is scanted ; all which, as 
it is impossible perhaps to find together, so it is good 
to know them, and think of them, that a man may 
take as many as he can ; and if he have several 
dwellings, that he sort them so, that what he want- 
eth in the one he may find in the other. Lucul- 
lus answered Pompey well, who, when he saw his 
stately galleries and rooms so large and lightsome, in 
one of his houses, said, " Surely, an excellent place 

1 Have a liking for cheerful society. Momus being the god of 
mirth. 

2 Eats up. 



OF BUILDING. 245 

for summer, but how do you do in winter ? " Lucul- 
lus answered, " Why, do you not think me as wise 
as some fowls are, that ever change their abode 
towards the winter ? " ^ 

To pass from the seat to the house itself, we will 
do as Cicero doth in the orator's art, who writes 
books De Oratore, and a book he entitles Orator; 
whereof the former delivers the precepts of the art, 
and the latter the perfection. We will therefore 
describe a princely palace, making a brief model 
thereof; for it is strange to see, now in Europe, 
such huge buildings as the Vatican and Escurial,^ 
and some others be, and yet scarce a very fair room 
in them. 

First, therefore, I say, you cannot have a perfect 
palace, except you have two several sides; a side 
for the banquet, as is spoken of in the book of Es- 
ther,^ and a side for the household ; the one for 
feasts and triumphs, and the other for dwelling. I 
understand both these sides to be not only returns, 
but parts of the front, and to be uniform without, 
though severally partitioned within; and to be on 
both sides of a great and stately tower in the midst 
of the front, that, as it were, joineth them together 
on either hand. I would have, on the side of the 

1 Plut. Vit. Lucull. 39. 

2 A vast edifice, about twenty miles from Madrid, founded by 
Philip II. 

2 Esth. i. 5 ; "The King made a feast unto all the people that 
were present in Shushan the palace, both unto great and small, 
seven days, in the court of the garden of the king's palace." 



246 ESSAYS. 

banquet in front, one only goodly room above stairs, 
of some forty foot high ; and under it a room for a 
dressing or preparing place, at times of triumphs. 
On the other side, which is the household side, I 
wish it divided at the first into a hall and a chapel, 
(with a partition between), both of good state and 
bigness ; and those not to go all the length, but to 
have at the further end a winter and a summer 
parlor, both fair ; and under these rooms a fair and 
large cellar sunk under ground ; and likewise some 
privy kitchens, with butteries, and pantries, and the 
like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories, 
of eighteen foot high apiece above the two wings ; 
and a goodly leads upon the top, railed, with statues 
interposed; and the same tower to be divided into 
rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise 
to the upper rooms, let them be upon a fair open 
newel,^ and finely railed in with images of wood 
cast into a brass color, and a very fair landing-place 
at the top. But this to be, if you do not point any 
of the lower rooms for a dining-place of servants ; 
for, otherwise, you shall have the servants' dinner 
after your own ; for the steam of it will come up as 
in a tunnel.2 ^jj^ g^ much for the front; only I 
understand the height of the first stairs to be sixteen 
foot, which is the height of the lower room. 

Beyond this front is there to be a fair court, but 

1 The cylinder formed by the small end of the steps of winding 
stairs. 

2 The funnel of a chimney. 



OF BUILDING. 247 

three sides of it of a far lower building than the front ; 
and in all the four corners of that court fair stair- 
cases, cast into turrets on the outside, and not within 
the row of buildings themselves ; but those towers 
are not to be of the height of the front, but rather 
proportionable to the lower building. Let the court 
not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat in 
summer, and much cold in winter ; but only some 
side alleys with a cross, and the quarters to graze, 
being kept shorn, but not too near shorn. The 
row of return on the banquet side, let it be all 
stately galleries ; in which galleries let there be 
three or five fine cupolas in the length of it, placed 
at equal distance, and fine colored windows of 
several works ; on the household side, chambers of 
presence and ordinary entertainments, with some 
bedchambers ; and let all three sides be a double 
house, without thorough lights on the sides, that 
you may have rooms from the sun, both for forenoon 
and afternoon. Cast it, also, that you may have 
rooms both for summer and winter ; shady for sum- 
mer, and warm for winter. You shall have some- 
times fair houses so full of glass, that one cannot 
tell where to become^ to be out of the sun or 
cold. For imbowed^ windows, I hold them of 
good use; (in cities, indeed, upright ^ do better, in 
respect of the uniformity towards the street;) for 
they be pretty retiring places for conference; and, 

^ "Where to go. 2 Bow, or bay, windows. 

3 Flush with the wall. 



248 ESSAYS. 

besides, they keep both the wind and sun off; for 
that which would strike almost through the room 
doth scarce pass the window : but let them be but 
few, four in the court, on the sides only. 

Beyond this court, let there be an inward court, 
of the same square and height, which is to be envi- 
roned with the garden on all sides ; and in the 
inside, cloistered on all sides upon decent and 
beautiful arches, as high as the first story; on the 
under story towards the garden, let it be turned 
to grotto, or place of shade, or estivation ; and only 
have opening and windows towards the garden, and 
be level upon the floor, no whit sunk under ground 
to avoid all dampishness; and let there be a foun- 
tain, or some fair work of statues in the midst of 
this court., and to be paved as the other court was. 
These buildings to be for privy lodgings on both 
sides, and the end for privy galleries; whereof you 
must foresee that one of them be for an infirmary, 
if the prince or any special person should be sick, 
with chambers, bedchamber, " anticamera," ^ and 
"recamera,"^ joining to it; this upon the second 
story. Upon the ground story, a fair gallery, open, 
upon pillars ; and upon the third story, likewise, 
an open gallery upon pillars, to take the prospect 
and freshness of the garden. At both corners of 
the further side, by way of return, let there be 
two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily paved, richly 
hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich 

1 Antechamber. 2 Withdrawing-room. 



OF GARDENS. 249 

cupola in the midst, and all other elegancy that can 
be thought upon. In the upper gallery, too, I wish 
that there may be, if the place will yield it, some 
fountains running in divers places from the wall, 
with some fine avoidances.^ And thus much for 
the model of the palace, save that you must have, 
before you come to the front, three courts : a green 
court plain, with a wall about it ; a second court of 
the same, but more garnished with little turrets, or 
rather embellishments, upon the wall ; and a third 
court, to make a square with the front, but not to be 
built, nor yet inclosed with a naked wall, but in- 
closed with terraces leaded aloft, and fairly gar- 
nished on the three sides, and cloistered on the 
inside with pillars, and not with arches below. As 
for offices, let them stand at distance, with some low 
galleries to pass from them to the palace itself. 



XLVL — OF GARDENS. 

God Almighty first planted a garden; and, in- 
deed, it is the purest of human pleasures ; it is the 
greatest refreshment to the spirits of man ; without 
which buildings and palaces are but gross handy- 
works ; and a man shall ever see, that, when ages 
grow to civility and elegancy, men come to build 
stately, sooner than to garden finely ; as if garden- 

^ Watercourses. 



250 ESSAYS. 

ing were the greater perfection. I do hold it, in 
the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to be 
gardens for all the months in the year, in which, 
severally, things of beauty may be then in season. 
For December, and January, and the latter part of 
November, you must take such things as are green 
all winter: holly, ivy, bays, juniper, cypress-trees, 
yew, pineapple-trees ; ^ fir-trees, rosemary, lavender ; 
periwinkle, the white, the purple, and the blue ; 
germander, flags, orange-trees, lemon-trees, and myr- 
tles, if they be stoved;^ and sweet marjoram, warm 
set. There followeth, for the latter part of January 
and February, the mezereon-tree, which then blossoms ; 
crocus vernus, both the yellow and the gray ; prim- 
roses, anemones, the early tulip, the hyacinthus 
orientalis, chamairis fritellaria. For March, there 
come violets, especially the single blue, which are 
the earliest ; the yellow daffodil, the daisy, the 
almond-tree in blossom, the peach-tree in blossom, 
the cornelian-tree in blossom, sweet-brier. In April, 
follow the double white violet, the wall-flower, the 
stock-gillyflower, the cowslip, flower-de-luces, and 
lilies of all natures ; rosemary flowers, the tulip, the 
double peony, the pale daffodil, the French honey- 
suckle, the cherry-tree in blossom, the damascene^ 
and plum-trees in blossom, the white thorn in 
leaf, the lilac-tree. In May and June come pinks 
of all sorts, especially the blush-pink; roses of all 

1 Pine trees. ^ Kept warm in a greenhouse. 

8 The damson, or plum of Damascus. 



OF GARDENS. 251 

kinds, except the musk, which comes later; honey- 
suckles, strawberries, bugloss, columbine, the French 
marigold, flos Africanus, cherry-tree in fruit, ribes,^ 
figs in fruit, rasps, vine-flowers, lavender in flowers, 
the sweet satyrian, with the white flower; herba 
muscaria, lilium convallium, the apple-tree in blos- 
som. In July come gillyflowers of all varieties, 
musk-roses, the lime-tree in blossom, early pears, and 
plums in fruit, genitings,^ codlins. In August come 
plums of all sorts in fruit, pears, apricots, barberries, 
filberts, musk-melons, monks-hoods, of all colors. In 
September come grapes, apples, poppies of all colors, 
peaches, melocotones,^ nectarines, cornelians,* war- 
dens/ quinces. In October, and the beginning of 
November, come services, medlars, bullaces, roses cut 
or removed to come late, hollyoaks, and such like. 
These particulars are for the climate of London ; 
but my meaning is perceived, that you may have 
"ver perpetuum,"^ as the place affords. 

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter 
in the air (where it comes and goes, like the war- 
bling of music), than in the hand, therefore nothing 
is more fit for that delight, than to know what be 

1 Currants. 

2 An apple that is gathered very esivly. 

^ A kind of qmnce, so called from "cotoueum," or "cydonium," 
the Latin name of the quince. 

* The fruit of the cornel-tree. 

^ The warden was a large pear, so called from its keeping well. 
Warden-pie was formerly much esteemed in this country. 

^ Perpetual spring. 



252 ESSAYS. 

the flowers and plants that do best perfume the 
air. Roses, damask and red, are fast flowers^ of 
their smell, so that you may walk by a whole row 
of them, and find nothing of their sweetness; yea, 
though it be in a morning's dew. Bays, likewise, 
yield no smell as they grow, rosemary little, nor 
sweet marjoram ; that which, above all others, yields 
the sweetest smell in the air, is the violet, especially 
the white double violet, which comes twice a year, 
about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew- 
tide. Next to that is the musk-rose ; then the 
strawberry leaves dying, with a most excellent cor- 
dial smell ; then the flower of the vines, it is a little 
dust like the dust of a bent,^ which grows upon the 
cluster in the first coming forth ; then sweet-brier, 
then wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be 
set under a parlor or lower chamber window ; then 
pinks and gillyflowers, specially the matted pink and 
clove gillyflower ; then the flowers of the lime-tree ; 
then the honeysuckles, so they be somewhat afar 
off". Of bean-flowers^ I speak not, because they 
are field-flowers ; but those which perfume the air 
most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but 
being trodden upon and crushed, are three ; that is, 
burnet, wild thyme, and water-mints ; therefore you 
are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure 
when you walk or tread. 

1 Flowers that do not send forth their smell at any distance. 

2 A species of grass of the genus argostis. 
^ The blossoms of the bean. 



OF GAKDENS. 253 

For gardens (speaking of those which are indeed 
prince-like, as we have done of buildings), the con- 
tents ought not well to be under thirty acres of 
ground, and to be divided into three parts ; a green 
in the entrance, a heath, or desert, in the going forth, 
and the main garden in the midst, besides alleys on 
both sides ; and I like well that four acres of ground 
be assigned to the green, six to the heath, four and 
four to either side, and twelve to the main garden. 
The green hath two pleasures : the one, because 
nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green 
grass kept finely shorn ; the other, because it will 
give you a fair alley iu the midst, by which you 
may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to 
inclose the garden. But because the alley will be 
long, and in great heat of the year, or day, you 
ought not to buy the shade in the garden by going 
in the sun through the green ; therefore you are, 
of either side the green, to plant a covert alley, 
upon carpenter's work, about twelve foot in height, 
by w^hich you may go in shade into the garden. 
As for the making of knots or figures, with divers 
colored earths, that they may lie under the windows 
of the house on that side which the garden stands, 
they be but toys ; you may see as good sights many 
times in tarts. The garden is best to be square, 
encompassed on all the four sides with a stately 
arched hedge : the arches to be upon pillars of car- 
penter's work, of some ten foot high, and six foot 
broad, and the spaces between of the same dimen- 



254 ESSAYS. 

sion with the breadth of the arch. Over the arches 
let there be an entire hedge of some four foot high, 
framed also upon carpenter's work ; and upon the 
upper hedge, over eveiy arch a little turret, with a 
belly enough to receive a cage of birds ; and over 
every space between the arches some other little 
figure, with broad plates of round colored glass gilt, 
for the sun to play upon ; but this hedge I intend 
to be raised upon a bank, not steep, but gently 
slope, of some six foot, set all with flowers. Also, 
I understand that this square of the garden should 
not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave 
on either side ground enough for diversity of side 
alleys, unto which the two covert alleys of the green 
may deliver you ; ^ but there must be no alleys with 
hedges at either end of this great inclosure ; not at 
the hither end, for letting ^ your prospect upon this 
fair hedge from the green ; nor at the further end for 
letting your prospect from the hedge through the 
arches upon the heath. 

For the ordering of the ground within the great 
hedge, I leave it to variety of device ; advising, 
nevertheless, that whatsoever form you cast it into 
first, it be not too bushy, or full of work ; wherein 
I, for my part, do not like images cut out in juni- 
per or other garden stuff"; they be for children. 
Little low hedges, round like welts, with some 
pretty pyramids, I like well; and in some places 
fair columns, upon frames of carpenter's work. I 

^ Bring or lead you. 2 Impeding. 



OF GARDENS. 255 

would also have the alleys spacious and fair. You 
may have closer alleys upon the side grounds, but 
none in the main garden. I wish, also, in the very 
middle, a fair mount, with three ascents and alleys, 
enough for four to walk abreast; which I would 
have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or 
embossments ; and the whole mount to be thirty 
foot high, and some fine banqueting-house, with some 
chimneys neatly cast, and without too much glass. 

For fountains, they are a great beauty and re- 
freshment ; but pools mar all, and make the garden 
unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs. Fountains 
I intend to be of two natures ; the one that sprin- 
kleth or spouteth water ; the other, a fair receipt of 
water, of some thirty or forty foot square, but with- 
out fish, or slime, or mud. For the first, the orna- 
ments of images, gilt or of marble, which are in 
use, do well; but the main matter is so to convey 
the water, as it never stay, either in the bowls or in 
the cistern ; that the water be never by rest dis- 
colored, green, or red, or the like, or gather any 
mossiness or putrefaction ; besides that, it is to be 
cleansed every day by the hand ; also, some steps 
up to it, and some fine pavement about it, doth well. 
As for the other kind of fountain, which we may 
call a bathing-pool, it may admit much curiosity 
and beauty, wherewith we will not trouble our- 
selves : as, that the bottom be finely paved, and 
with images ; the sides likewise ; and, withal, em- 
bellished with colored glass, and such things of 



256 ESSAYS. 

lustre ; encompassed, also, with fine rails of low 
statues. But the main point is the same that we 
mentioned in the former kind of fountain ; which 
is, that tlie water be in perpetual motion, fed by a 
water higher than the pool, and delivered into it by 
fair spouts, and then discharged away under ground, 
by some equality of bores, that it stay little ; and 
for fine devices, of arching water ^ without spilling, 
and making it rise in several forms (of feathers, 
drinking-glasses, canopies, and the like), they be 
pretty things to look on, but nothing to health and 
sweetness. 

For the heath, which was the third part of our 
plot, I wish it to be framed as much as may be to 
a natural wildness. Trees I would have none in it, 
but some thickets made only of sweet-brier and 
honeysuckle, and some wild vine amongst ; and the 
ground set with violets, strawberries, and primroses ; 
for these are sweet, and prosper in the shade, and 
these to be in the heath here and there, not in any 
order. I like also little heaps, in the nature of 
molehills (such as are in wild heaths), to be set, 
some with wild thyme, some with pinks, some with 
germander, that gives a good flower to the eye ; 
some with periwinkle, some with violets, some with 
strawberries, some with cowslips, some with daisies, 
some with red roses, some with lilium convallium,^ 

1 Causing tlie water to fall in a perfect arch, without any spray- 
escaping from the jet. 

2 Lilies of the valley. 



OF GARDENS. 25? 

some with sweet-williams red, some Avith bear's- 
foot, and the like low flowers, being withal sweet 
and sightly ; part of which heaps to be with stand- 
ards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and 
part without ; the standards to be roses, juniper, 
holly, barberries (but here and there, because of 
the smell of their blossom), red currants, gooseber- 
ries, rosemary, bays, sweetbrier, and such like; but 
these standards to be kept with cutting, that they 
grow not out of course. 

For the side grounds, you are to fill them with 
variety of alleys, private, to give a full shade ; some 
of them wheresoever the sun be. You are to frame 
some of them likewise for shelter, that when the 
wind blows sharp, you may walk as in a gallery : 
and those alleys must be likewise hedged at both 
ends, to keep out the wind ; and these closer alleys 
must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because 
of going wet. In many of these alleys, likewise, you 
are to set fruit-trees of all sorts, as well upon the 
walls as in ranges ; ^ and this should be generally 
observed, that the borders wherein you plant your 
fruit-trees be fair, and large, and low, and not steep ; 
and set with fine flowers, but thin and sparingly, 
lest they deceive ^ the trees. At the end of both the 
side grounds I would have a mount of some pretty 
height, leaving the wall of the inclosure breast high, 
to look abroad into the fields. 

For the main garden, I do not deny but there 

1 Tn rows. 2 Insidiously subtract nourishment from. 

17 



258 ESSAYS. 

should be some fair alleys ranged on both sides with 
fruit-trees, and some pretty tufts of fruit-trees and 
arbors with seats, set in some decent order ; but 
these to be by no means set too thick, but to leave 
the main garden so as it be not close, but the air 
open and free. For as for shade, I would have you 
rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to 
walk, if you be disposed, in the heat of the year or 
day ; but to make account ^ that the main garden is 
for the more temperate parts of the year, and in the 
heat of summer for the morning and the evening or 
overcast days. 

For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of 
that largeness as they may be turfed, and have living 
plants and bushes set in them ; that the birds may 
have more scope and natural nestling, and that no 
foulness appear in the floor of the aviary. So I 
have made a platform of a princely garden, partly by 
precept, partly by drawing ; not a model, but some 
general lines of it ; and in this I have spared for no 
cost. But it is nothing for great princes, that, for 
the most part, taking advice with workmen, with no 
less cost set their things together, and sometimes add 
statues and such things for state and magnificence, 
but nothing to the true pleasure of a garden. 

1 To consider or expect. 



OF NEGOTIATINa. 259 



XLYIL — OF NEGOTIATING. 

It is generally better to deal by speech than by 
letter ; and by the mediation of a third, than by a 
man's self. Letters are good, when a man would 
draw an answer by letter back again ; or when it 
may serve for a man's justification afterwards to 
produce his own letter, or where it may be danger 
to be interrupted or heard by pieces. To deal in 
person is good, when a man's face breedeth regard, 
as commonly with inferiors ; or in tender cases, 
where a man's eye upon the countenance of him with 
whom he speaketh, may give him a direction how far 
to go ; and, generally, where a man will resei^ve to 
himself liberty, either to disavow or to expound. In 
choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of 
a plainer sort, that are like to do that that is com- 
mitted to them, and to report back again faithfully 
the success, than those that are cunning to contrive 
out of other men's business somewhat to grace them- 
selves, and will help the matter in report, for satis- 
faction sake. Use also such persons as affect ^ the 
business wherein they are employed, for that quick- 
eneth much ; and such as are fit for the matter, 
as bold men for expostulation, fairspoken men for 
persuasion, crafty men for inquiry and observation, 
fro ward and absurd men for business that doth not 

1 Love, are pleased with. 



260 ESSAYS. 

well bear out itself. Use also such as have been 
lucky and prevailed before in things wherein you 
have employed them ; for that breeds confidence, 
and they will strive to maintain their prescription. 
It is better to sound a person with whom one deals 
afar off, than to fall upon the point at first, except 
you mean to surprise him by some short question. 
It is better dealing with men in appetite,^ than with 
those that are where they would be. If a man deal 
with another upon conditions, the start of first per- 
formance is all ; which a man cannot reasonably 
demand, except either the nature of the thing be 
such, which must go before ; or else a man can per- 
suade the other party, that he shall still need him in 
some other thing; or else that he be counted the 
honester man. All practice is to discover, or to 
work. Men discover themselves in trust, in passion, 
at unawares ; and, of necessity, when they would 
have somewhat done, and cannot find an apt pretext. 
If you would work any man, you must either know 
his nature and fashions, and so lead him ; or his 
ends, and so persuade him ; or his weakness and 
disadvantages, and so awe him ; or those that have 
interest in him, and so govern him. In dealing with 
cunning persons, we must ever consider their ends, 
to interpret their speeches ; and it is good to say 
little to them, and that which they least look for. 

1 It is more advantageous to deal with men whose desires are 
not yet satisfied, than with those who have gained all they have 
wished for, and are likely to be proof against inducements. 



OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS. 261 

In all negotiations of difficulty, a man may not look 
to sow and reap at once ; but must prepare business, 
and so ripen it by degrees. 



XLVIIL — OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS. 

Costly followers are not to be liked, lest, while 
a man maketh his train longer, he make his wings 
shorter. I reckon to be costly, not them alone 
which charge the purse, but which are wearisome 
and importune in suits. Ordinary followers ought 
to challenge no higher conditions than countenance, 
recommendation, and protection from wrongs. Fac- 
tious followers are worse to be liked, which fol- 
low not upon affection to him with whoni they 
range themselves, but upon discontentment con- 
ceived against some other; whereupon commonly 
ensueth that ill intelligence, that we many times see 
between great personages. Likewise glorious^ fol- 
lowers, who make themselves as trumpets of the 
commendations of those they follow, are full of in- 
convenience, for they taint business through want 
of secrecy ; and they export honor from a man, and 
make him a return in envy. There is a kind of fol- 
lowers, likewise, which are dangerous, being indeed 
espials ; which inquire the secrets of the house, and 

1 In the sense of the Latin "gloriosus," "boastful," " brag- 



262 ESSAYS. 

bear tales of them to others ; yet such men, many 
times, are in great favor, for they are officious, and 
commonly exchange tales. The following, by cer- 
tain estates^ of men, answerable to that which a 
great person himself professeth (as of soldiers to 
him that hath been employed in the wars, and the 
like), hath ever been a thing civil and well taken 
even in monarchies, so it be without too much pomp 
or popularity. But the most honorable kind of fol- 
lowing, is to be followed as one that apprehendetli 
to advance virtue and desert in all sorts of persons ; 
and yet, where there is no eminent odds in suffi- 
ciency, it is better to take with the more passable, 
than with the more able ; and, besides, to speak 
truth in base times, active men are of more use than 
virtuous. It is true, that, in government, it is good 
to use men of one rank equally ; for to countenance 
some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and 
the rest discontent, because they may claim a due : 
but, contrariwise, in favor, to use men with much 
difference and election is good: for it maketh the 
persons preferred more thankful, and the rest more 
officious, because all is of favor. It is good discre- 
tion not to make too much of any man at the first, 
because one cannot hold out that proportion. To be 
governed, as we call it, by one, is not safe, for it 
shows softness,'^ and gives a freedom to scandal and 
disreputation ; for those that would not censure, or 

1 Professions or classes. 

2 Weakness, or indecision of character. 



OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS. 263 

speak ill of a man immediately, will talk more boldly 
of those that are so great with them, and thereby 
wound their honor ; yet to be distracted with many 
is worse, for it makes men to be of the last impres- 
sion, and full of change. To take advice of some 
few friends is ever honorable ; for lookers-on many 
times see more than gamesters, and the vale best 
discovereth the hill. There is little friendship in the 
world, and least of all between equals, which w^as 
wont 1 to be magnified. That that is, is between 
superior and inferior,^ whose fortunes may compre- 
hend the one the other. 

1 He probably alludes to the ancient stories of the friendship of 
Orestes and Pylades, Theseus and Pirithoils, Damon and Pythias, 
and others, and the maxims of the ancient philosophers. Aristotle 
considers that equality in circumstances and station is one requisite 
of friendship. Seneca and Quintus Curtius express the same opin- 
ion. It seems hardly probable that Lord Bacon reflected deeply 
when he penned this passage, for between equals, jealousy, the 
most insidious of all the enemies of friendship, has the least chance 
of originating. Dr. Johnson says: " Friendship is seldom lasting 
but between equals, or where the superiority on one side is reduced 
by some equivalent advantage on the other. Benefits which cannot 
be repaid, and obligations which cannot be discharged, are not 
commonly found to increase aff'ection; they excite gratitude indeed, 
and heighten veneration, but commonly take away that easy free- 
dom and familiarity of intercourse, without which, though there 
may be fidelity, and zeal, and admiration, there cannot be friend- 
ship." — The Eambler, No. 64. 

^ In such a case, gratitude and admiration exist on the one hand, 
esteem and confidence on the other. 



264 ESSAYS. 



XLIX.~OF SUITORS. 

Many ill matters and projects are undertaken; 
and private suits do putrefy the public good. Many 
good matters are undertaken with bad minds ; I 
mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds, that 
intend not performance. Some embrace suits, which 
never mean to deal effectually in them ; but if they 
see there may be life in the matter, by some other 
mean they will be content to win a thank, or take a 
second reward, or, at least, to make use, in the 
mean time, of the suitor's hopes. Some take hold 
of suits only for an occasion to cross some other, 
or to make an information, whereof they could not 
otherwise have apt pretext, without care what be- 
come of the suit when that turn is served ; or, 
generally, to make other men's business a kind of 
entertainment to bring in their own : nay, some 
undertake suits with a full purpose to let them 
fall, to the end to gratify the adverse party, or com- 
petitor. Surely, there is in some sort a right in 
every suit ; either a right of equity, if it be a suit 
of controversy, or a right of desert, if it be a suit 
of petition. If affection lead a man to favor the 
wrong side in justice, let him rather use his coun- 
tenance to compound the matter than to carry it. 
If affection lead a man to favor the less worthy in 
desert, let him do it without depraving ^ or disabling 

1 Lowering, or humiliating. 



OF SUITORS. 265 

the better deserver. In suits which a man doth not 
well understand, it is good to refer them to some 
friend of trust and judgment, that may report whether 
he may deal in them with honor ; but let him choose 
well his referendaries/ for else he may be led by 
the nose. Suitors are so distasted ^ with delays and 
abuses, that plain dealing in denying to deal in suits 
at first, and reporting the success barely,^ and in 
challenging no more thanks than one hath deserved, 
is grown not only honorable, but also gracious. In 
suits of favor, the first cominoj ouj^ht to take little 
place f so far forth ^ consideration may be had of 
his trust, that if intelligence of the matter could 
not otherwise have been had but by him, advantage 
be not taken ^f the note,** but the party left to his 
other means, and in some sort recompensed for his 
discovery. To be ignorant of the value of a suit is 
simplicity ; as well as to be ignorant of the right 
thereof, is want of conscience. Secrecy in suits is a 
great mean of obtaining ; for voicing them to be in 
forwardness may discourage some kind of suitors, but 
doth quicken and awake others. But timing of the 
suit is the principal ; timing, I say, not only in respect 
of the person that should grant it, but in respect of 
those which are like to cross it. Let a man, in the 

1 Referees. 2 Disgusted. 

^ Giving no false color to the degree of success which has at- 
tended the prosecution of the suit. 
* To have little effect. 
5 To this extent. ^ Qf the information. 



266 ESSAYS. 

choice of his mean, rather choose the fittest mean, 
than the greatest mean ; and rather them that deal 
in certain things, than those that are general. The 
reparation of a denial is sometimes equal to the first 
grant, if a man show himself neither dejected nor 
discontented. " Iniquum petas, ut sequum feras," ^ 
is a good rule, where a man hath strength of favor ; 
but otherwise a man were better rise in his suit ; 
for he that would have ventured at first to have 
lost the suitor, will not, in the conclusion, lose both 
the suitor and his own former favor. Nothing is 
thought so easy a request to a great person as his 
letter: and yet if it be not in a good cause, it is 
so much out of his reputation. There are no worse 
instruments than these general contrivers of suits ; 
for they are but a kind of poison and infection to 
public proceedings. 



OF STUDIES.2 



Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for 
ability. Their chief use for delight, is in private- 
ness and retiring ; for ornament, is in discourse ; 
and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition 
of business ; for expert men can execute, and per- 

1 "Ask what is exorbitant, that you may obtain what is mod- 
erate." 

2 This formed the first essay in the earliest edition of the work. 



OF STUDIES. 267 

haps judge of particulars one by one ; but the gen- 
eral counsels, and the plots and marshalling of 
affairs, come best from those that are learned. To 
spend too much time in studies, is sloth ; to use 
them too much for ornament, is affectation ; to make 
judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a 
scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected 
by experience ; for natural abilities are like natural 
plants, that need pruning by study; and studies 
themselves do give forth directions too much at 
large, except they be bounded in by experience. 
Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire 
them, and wise men use them ; for they teach not 
their own use ; but that is a wisdom without them 
and above them, won by observation. Read not to 
contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for 
granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh 
and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others 
to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and 
digested ; that is, some books are to be read only 
in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; ^ 
and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence 
and attention. Some books also may be read by 
deputy, and extracts made of them by others ; but 
that would be only in the less important arguments 
and the meaner sort of books ; else distilled books 
are, like common distilled waters, flashy ^ things. 
Reading maketh a full man ; conference a ready 
man ; and writing an exact man ; and, therefore, if 

1 Attentively. ^ Vapid ; without taste or spirit. 



268 ESSAYS. 

a man write little, he had need have a great memory; 
if he confer little, he had need have a present wit ; 
and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, 
to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make 
men wise ; poets, witty ; the mathematics, subtile ; 
natural philosophy, deep ; moral, grave ; logic and 
rhetoric, able to contend: "Abeunt studia in mores ;"i 
nay, there is no stand or impediment in the wit, but 
may be wrought out by fit studies. Like as diseases 
of the body may have appropriate exercises, bowling 
is good for the stone and reins, shooting for the lungs 
and breast, gentle walking for the stomach, riding 
for the head and the like ; so, if a man's wit be 
wandering, let him study the mathematics ; for in 
demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so 
little, he must begin again ; if his wit be not apt 
to distinguish or find difference, let him study the 
schoolmen, for they are " Cymini sectores." ^ If he 
be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one 
thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study 
the lawyers' cases ; so every defect of the mind may 
have a special receipt. 

1 "Studies become habits." 

2 "Splitters of cummin-seeds;" or, as we now say, "splitters 
of straws," or "hairs." Butler says of Hudibras : — 

"He could distinguish and divide 
A hair *twixt south and southwest side." 



OF FACTION. 269 



LI. — OF FACTION. 



Many have an opinion not wise, that for a prince ' 
to govern his estate, or for a great person to govern 
his proceedings, according to the respect of factions, 
is a principal part of policy ; whereas, contrariwise, 
the chiefest wisdom is, either in ordering those 
things which are general, and wherein men of sev- 
eral factions do nevertheless agree, or in dealing 
with correspondence to particular persons, one by 
one; but I say not, that the consideration of fac- 
tions is to be neglected. Mean men in their rising 
must adhere ; but great men, that have strength in 
themselves, were better to maintain themselves in- 
different and neutral; yet, even in beginners, to 
adhere so moderately, as he be a man of the one 
faction, Avhich is most passable Avith the other, com- 
monly giveth best way. The lower and weaker 
faction is the firmer in conjunction ; and it is often 
seen, that a few that are stiff, do tire out a great 
number that are more moderate. When one of the 
factions is extinguished, the remaining subdivideth ; 
as the faction between LucuUus and the rest of the 
nobles of the senate (which they called " opti- 
mates"), held out a while against the faction of 
Pompey and Csesar; but when the senate's au- 
thority was pulled down, Csesar and Pompey soon 
after brake. The faction or party of Antonius and 



270 ESSAYS. 

Octavianus Caesar, against Brutus and Cassius, held 
out likewise for a time ; but when Brutus and Cas- 
sius were overthrown, then soon after Antonius 
and Octavianus brake and subdivided. These ex- 
amples are of wars, but the same holdeth in private 
factions ; and, therefore, those that are seconds in fac- 
tions do many times, when the faction subdivideth, 
prove principals ; but many times also they prove 
ciphers, and cashiered, for many a man's strength is 
in opposition ; and when that faileth, he groweth 
out of use. It is commonly seen, that men once 
placed, take in with the contrary faction to that by 
which they enter; thinking, belike, that they have 
the first sure, and now are ready for a new pur- 
chase. The traitor in faction lightly goeth away 
with it; for when matters have stuck long in bal- 
ancing, the winning of some one man casteth them,^ 
and he getteth all the thanks. The even carriage 
between two factions procecdetli not always of mod- 
eration, but of a trueness to a man's self, with end to 
make use of both. Certainly, in Italy, they hold it a 
little suspect in popes, when they have often in their 
mouth, " Padre commune ; " ^ and take it to be a 
sign of one that meaneth to refer all to the great- 
ness of his own house. Kings had need beware 
how they side themselves, and make themselves as 
of a faction or party ; for leagues within the state 
are ever pernicious to monarchies ; for they raise an 
obligation paramount to obligation of sovereignty, 

1 Causes one side to preponderate. ^ << The common father." 



OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS. 271 

and make the king " tanquam unus ex nobis," ^ as 
was to be seen in the League of France. When 
factions are carried too high and too violently, it is 
a sign of weakness in princes, and much to the 
prejudice both of their authority and business. The 
motions of factions under kings, ought to be like the 
motions (as the astronomers speak) of the inferior 
orbs, which may have their proper motions, but yet 
still are quietly carried by the higher motion of 
^^ primum mobile." ^ 



LII._OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS. 

He that is only real, had need have exceeding 
great parts of virtue ; as the stone had need to be 
rich that is set without foil ; but if a man mark it 
well, it is in praise and commendation of men, as 
it is in gettings and gains ; for the proverb is true, 
that "Light gains make heavy purses;" for light 
gains come thick, whereas great come but now and 
then. So it is true, that small matters win great 
commendation, because they are continually in use 
and in note ; whereas the occasion of any great 
virtue cometh but on festivals ; therefore it doth 

1 "As one of ns." Henry the Third of France, favoring the 
league formed by the Duke of Guise and Cardinal De Lorraine 
against the Protestants, soon found that, through the adoption 
of that policy, he had forfeited the respect of his subjects. 

2 See a note to Essay 15. 



272 ESSAYS. 

much add to a man's reputation, and is (as Queen 
Isabella ^ said) like perpetual letters commendatory, 
to have good forms. To attain them, it almost 
sufficeth not to despise them ; for so shall a man 
observe them in others ; and let him trust himself 
with the rest ; for if he labor too much to express 
them, he shall lose their grace, which is to be natu- 
ral and unaffected. Some men's behavior is like a 
verse, wherein every syllable is measured ; how can 
a man comprehend great matters, that breaketh his 
mind too much to small observations ? Not to use 
ceremonies at all, is to teach others not to use them 
again, and so diminisheth respect to himself; es- 
pecially they be not to be omitted to strangers and 
formal natures ; but the dwelling upon them, and 
exalting them above the moon, is not only tedious, 
but doth diminish the faith and credit of him that 
speaks ; and, certainly, there is a kind of conveying 
of effectual and imprinting passages amongst com- 
pliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit 
upon it. Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be 
sure of familiarity, and, therefore, it is good a little 
to keep state ; amongst a man's inferiors, one shall 
be sure of reverence, and therefore it is good a little 
to be familiar. He that is too much in any thing, 
so that he giveth another occasion of satiety, maketh 
himself cheap. To apply one's self to others, is 
good, so it be with demonstration that a man doth 

1 Of Castile. She was the wife of Ferdinand of Arragon, and 
was the patroness of Columbus. 



OF PRAISE. 273 

it upon regard, and not upon facility. It is a good 
precept, generally in seconding another, yet to add 
somewhat of one's own ; as, if you will grant his 
opinion, let it be with some distinction ; if you will 
follow his motion, let it be with condition ; if you 
allow his counsel, let it be with alleging further rea- 
son. Men had need beware how they be too perfect 
in compliments ; for be they never so sufficient oth- 
erwise, their enviers mil be sure to give them that 
attribute to the disadvantage of their greater vir- 
tues. It is loss, also, in business, to be too full of 
respects, or to be too curious in observing times and 
opportunities. Solomon saith, ^' He that consider- 
eth the wind shall not sow, and he that looketh to 
the clouds shall not reap." ^ A wise man will make 
more opportunities than he finds. Men's behavior 
should be like their apparel, not too strait or point 
device,^ but free for exercise or motion. 



LIII. — OF PRAISE, 

Praise is the reflection of virtue ; but it is glass, 
or body, which giveth the reflection. If it be from 
the common people, it is commonly false and naught, 

1 The words in our version are: " He that observeth the wind 
shall not sow, and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap. — 
Ecclesiastes xi. 1. 

2 Exact in the extreme. Point-de-vice was originally the 
name of a kind of lace of very fine pattern. 

18 



274 ESSAYS. 

and rather followeth vain persons than virtuous ; for 
the common people understand not many excellent 
virtues. The lowest virtues draw praise from them, 
the middle virtues work in them astonishment or 
admiration, but of the highest virtues they have no 
sense or perceiving at all; but shows and "species 
virtutibus similes," ^ serve best with them. Cer- 
tainly, fame is like a river, that beareth up things 
light and swollen, and drowns things weighty and 
solid ; but if persons of quality and judgment con- 
cur, then it is (as the Scripture saith), *'Nomen 
bonum instar unguenti fragrantis : " ^ it filleth all 
round about, and will not easily away ; for the odors 
of ointments are more durable than those of flowers. 
There be so many false points of praise, that a man 
may justly hold it a suspect. Some praises proceed 
merely of flattery ; and if he be an ordinary flatterer, 
he will have certain common attributes, which may 
serve every man ; if he be a cunning flatterer, he 
will follow the arch-flatterer, which is a man's self, 
and wherein a man thinketh best of himself, therein 
the flatterer will uphold him most. But if he be an 
impudent flatterer, look wherein a man is conscious 
to himself that he is most defective, and is most out 
of countenance in himself, that will the flatterer entitle 
him to, perforce, "spretaconscientia."^ Some praises 

1 "Appearances resembling virtues." 

2 "A good name is like sweet-smelling ointment." The words 
in our version are, "A good name is better than precious ointment. 
— Ecchsiastes vii. 1. 

2 "Disregarding Ids own conscience." 



OF PRAISE. 275 

come of good wishes and respects, which is a form 
due in civility to kings and great persons, ^^ laudando 
prsecipere ; " ^ when, by telling men what they are, 
they represent to them what they should be ; some 
men are praised maliciously to their hurt, thereby 
to stir envy and jealousy towards them : " Pessi- 
mum genus inimicorum laudantium ; " ^ insomuch 
as it was a proverb amongst the Grecians, that 
" he that was praised to his hurt, should have a 
push ^ rise upon his nose ; " as we say that a blister 
will rise upon one's tongue that tells a lie ; cer- 
tainly, moderate praise, used with opportunity, and 
not vulgar, is that which doth the good. Solomon 
saith : " He that praiseth his friend aloud, rising 
early, it shall be to him no better than a curse."* 
Too much magnifying of man or matter doth irri- 
tate contradiction, and procure envy and scorn. 
To praise a man's self cannot be decent, except it 
be in rare cases ; but to praise a man's office ^ or 
profession, he may do it with good grace, and w^th 
a kind of magnanimity. The cardinals of Rome, 
which are theologues,^ and friars, and schoolmen, 

^ "To instruct under the form of praise." 

2 *'The worst kind of enemies are those who flatter." 

3 A pimple filled with "pus,"or "purulent matter." The word 
is still used in the east of England. 

4 The words in our version are : " He that blesseth his friend 
with a loud voice, rising early in the morning, it shall be counted 
a curse to him." — Proverbs xxvii. 14. 

s In other words, to shoAV what we call an esprit de corps. 
6 Theologians. 



276 ESSAYS. 

have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn towards 
civil business ; for they call all temporal business of 
wars, embassages, judicature, and other employments, 
sbirrerie, which is under-sherifFries, as if they were 
but matters for under-sheriffs and catchpoles ; though 
many times those under-sheriffries do more good than 
their high speculations. St. Paul, when he boasts 
of himself, he doth oft interlace, " I speak like a 
fool : " ^ but speaking of his calling, he saith, " Mag- 
nificabo apostolatum meum."^ 



LIV. — OF VAINGLORY. 

It was prettily devised of ^Esop, the fly sat upon 
the axle-tree of the chariot-wheel, and said, "What 
a dust do I raise ! " So are there some vain persons, 
that, whatsoever goeth alone, or moveth upon greater 
means, if they have never so little hand in it, they 
think it is they that carry it. They that are glorious, 
must needs be factious ; for all bravery ^ stands upon 
comparisons. They must needs be violent, to make 
good their own vaunts ; neither can they be secret, 
and therefore not effectual ; but, according to the 

1 2 Cor. xi. 23. 

2 "I will magnify my apostleship. " He alludes to the words 
in Romans xi. 13 : "Inasmuch as I am the apostle of the Gentiles, 
I magnify mine office." 

^ Vaunting, or boasting. 



OF VAINGLORY. 277 

French proverb, '^ Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit ; " 
— " much bruit,^ little fruit." Yet, certainly, there 
is use of this quality in civil affairs : where there is 
an opinion ^ and fame to be created, either of virtue 
or greatness, these men are good trumpeters. Again, 
as Titus Livius noteth, in the case of Antiochus and 
the JEtolians,^ there are sometimes great effects of 
cross lies ; as if a man that negotiates between two 
princes, to draw them to join in a war against the 
third, doth extol the forces of either of them above 
measure, the one to the other; and sometimes he 
that deals between man and man, raiseth his own 
credit with both, by pretending greater interest than 
he hath in either; and in these, and the like 
kinds, it often falls out, that somewhat is produced 
of nothing; for lies are sufficient to breed opinion, 
and opinion brings on substance. In military com- 
manders and soldiers, vainglory is an essential point ; 
for as iron sharpens iron, so by glory one courage 
sharpeneth another. In cases of great enterprise 
upon charge^ and adventure, a composition of glo- 
rious natures doth put life into business ; and those 
that are of solid and sober natures, have more of the 
ballast than of the sail. In fame of learning, the 
flight will be slow without some feathers of osten- 
tation : " Qui de contemnend^ gloria libros scribunt, 

1 Noise. We have a corresponding proverb: "Great cry and 
little wool." 

2 A high or good opinion. 3 Vide Liv. xxxvii. 48. 
* By express command. 



278 ESSAYS. 

nomen suum inscribunt." ^ Socrates, Aristotle, Galen, 
were men full of ostentation : certainly, vainglory 
helpeth to perpetuate a man's memory ; and virtue 
vras never so beholden to human nature, as it received 
its due at the second hand. Neither had the fame 
of Cicero, Seneca, Plinius Secundus,^ borne her age 
so well if it had not been joined with some vanity 
in themselves ; like unto varnish, that makes ceilings 
not only shine, but last. But all this while, when I 
speak of vainglory, I mean not of that property 
that Tacitus doth attribute to Mucianus, " Omnium, 
qu8D dixerat feceratque, arte quadam ostentator ; " ^ 
for that^ proceeds not of vanity, but of natural 
magnanimity and discretion ; and, in some persons, 
is not only comely, but gracious ; for excusations,^ 
cessions,^ modesty itself, well governed, are but arts 
of ostentation ; and amongst those arts there is none 
better than that which Plinius Secundus speaketh 

1 "Those who write books on despising glory, set their names 
in the title-page." He quotes from Cicero's "Tusculanse Dis- 
putationes," b. i. c. 15, whose words are; "Quid nostri philoso- 
phi ? Nonne in his libris ipsis, quos scribunt de contemnenda 
gloria, sua nomina inscribunt." — "What do our philosophers do? 
Do they not, in those very books which they write on despising 
glory, set their names in the title-page?" 

2 Pliny the Younger, the nephew of the elder Pliny, the natu- 
ralist. 

3 "One who set off every thing he said and did with a certain 
skill." Mucianus was an intriguing general in the times of Otho 
and Vitellius. — Hist. xi. 80. 

* Namely, the property of which he was speaking, and not that 
mentioned by Tacitus. 

^ Apologies. 6 Concessions. 



OF HONOR AND EEPUTATION. 279 

of, which is to be liberal of praise and commenda- 
tion to others, in that wherein a man's self hath any 
perfection. For, saith Pliny, very wittily, " In com- 
mending another, you do yourself right ; " ^ for he 
that you commend is either superior to you in that 
you commend, or inferior : if he be inferior, if he be 
to be commended, you much more ; if he be superior, 
if he be not to be commended, you much less." 
Glorious 2 men are the scorn of wise men, the 
admiration of fools, the idols of parasites, and the 
slaves of their own vaunts. 



LV. — OF HONOR AND REPUTATIOK 

The winning of honor is but the revealing of a 
man's virtue and worth without disadvantage ; for 
some in their actions do woo and affect honor and 
reputation ; which sort of men are commonly much 
talked of, but inwardly little admired; and some, 
contrariwise, darken their virtue in the show of it, so 
as they be undervalued in opinion. If a man per- 
form that which hath not been attempted before, 
or attempted and given over, or hath been achieved, 
but not with so good circumstance, he shall purchase 
more honor than by affecting a matter of greater 
difficulty or virtue, wherein he is but a follower. 
If a man so temper his actions, as in some one of 

1 Plin. Epist. vi. 17. ^ Boastful. 



280 ESSAYS. 

them he doth content every faction or combination 
of people, the music will be the fuller. A man is 
an ill husband of his honor that entereth into any 
action, the failing wherein may disgrace him more 
than the carrying of it through can honor him. 
Honor that is gained and broken upon another 
hath the quickest reflection, like diamonds cut with 
facets ; and therefore let a man contend to excel any 
competitors of his in honor, in outshooting them, if 
he can, in their own bow. Discreet followers and 
servants help much to reputation : " Omnis fama a 
domesticis emanat." ^ Envy, which is the canker of 
honor, is best extinguished by declaring a man's self 
in his ends, rather to seek merit than fame ; and by 
attributing a man's successes rather to Divine provi- 
dence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy. 
The true marshalling of the degrees of sovereign 
honor are these. In the first place are ^' condi- 
tores imperiorum," '^ founders of states and common- 
wealths ; such as were Romulus, Cyrus, Csesar, Otto- 
man,^ Ismael : in the second place are " legislatores," 
lawgivers, which are also called second founders, or 
" perpetui principes," * because they govern by their 

1 " All fame emanates from servants." — Q. Cic. de Petit. Consul, 
V. 17. 

2 "Founders of empires." 

3 He alludes to Ottoman, or Othman I., the founder of the 
dynasty now reigning at Constantinople. From him, the Turkish 
empire received the appellation of " Othoman," or "Ottoman" 
Porte. 

* "Perpetual rulers." 



OF HONOR AND REPUTATION. 281 

ordinances after they are gone ; such were Lycurgus, 
Solon, Justinian, Edgar/ Alphonsus of Castile, the 
Wise, that made the " Siete Partidas : " ^ in the 
third place are " liberatores," or ^^ salvatores," ^ such 
as compound the long miseries of civil wars, or 
deliver their countries from servitude of strangers or 
tyrants, as Augustus Caesar, Vespasianus, Aurelia- 
nus, Theodoricus, King Henry the Seventh of Eng- 
land, King Henry the Fourth of France: in the 
fourth place are " propagatores," or " propugnatores 
imperii,"^ such as in honorable wars enlarge their 
territories, or make noble defence against invaders : 
and, in the last place are " patres patrige," ^ which 
reign justly, and make the times good wherein they 
live ; both which last kinds need no examples, they 
are in such number. Degrees of honor in subjects 
are, first, '' participes curarum,'*^ those upon whom 

^ Surnamed the Peaceful, who ascended the throne of England 
A. D. 959. He was eminent as a legislator, and a rigid assertor 
of justice. Hume considers his reign " one of the most fortunate 
that we meet with in the ancient English history." 

2 These were a general collection of the Spanish laws, made 
by Alphonso X. of Castile, arranged under their proper titles. 
The work was commenced by Don Ferdinand his father, to put 
an end to the contradictory decisions in the Castilian courts of 
justice. It was divided into seven parts, whence its name "Siete 
Partidas." It did not, however, become the law of Castile till 
nearly eighty years after. 

3 ** Deliverers," or "preservers." 

* " Extenders," or "defenders of the empire." 
^ " Fathers of their country." 
^ " Participators in cares." 



282 ESSAYS. 

princes do discharge the greatest weight of their 
affairs, their right hands, as we call them ; the next 
are " duces belli," ^ great leaders, such as are princes' 
lieutenants, and do them notable services in the 
wars ; the third are " gratiosi," favorites, such as 
exceed not this scantling,^ to be solace to the sove- 
reign, and harmless to the people; and the fourth, 
" negotiis pares," ^ such as have great places under 
princes, and execute their places with sufficiency. 
There is an honor, likewise, which may be ranked 
amongst the greatest, which happen eth rarely ; that 
is, of such as sacrifice themselves to death or danger 
for the good of their country ; as was M. Regulus, 
and the two Decii. 



LVL — OF JUDICATURE. 

Judges ought to remember that their office is 
"jus dicere,"* and not "jus dare ; " ^ to interpret 
law, and not to make law, or give law ; else will it 
be like the authority claimed by the Church of 
Rome, which, under pretext of exposition of Scrip- 
ture, doth not stick to add and alter, and to pro- 
nounce that which they do not find, and, by show 
of antiquity, to introduce novelty. Judges ought to 

1 ** Leaders in war." 2 Proportion, dimensions. 

3 •* Equal to their duties." ^ " To expound the law." 

5 " To make the law. " 



OF JUDICATURE. 283 

be more learned than witty, more reverend than 
plausible, and more advised than confident. Above 
all things, integrity is their portion and proper 
virtue. " Cursed (saith the law) ^ is he that remov- 
eth the landmark." The mislayer of a mere stone 
is to blame ; but it is the unjust judge that is the 
capital remover of landmarks, when he defineth 
amiss of lands and property. One foul sentence 
doth more hurt than many foul examples ; for 
these do but corrupt the stream, the other corrupt- 
eth the fountain : so saith Solomon, " Fons turba- 
tus et vena corrupta est Justus cadens in caus^ su§, 
coram adversario." ^ The office of judges may have 
reference unto the parties that sue, unto the advo- 
cates that plead, unto the clerks and ministers of 
justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or 
state above them. 

First, for the causes or parties that sue. " There 
be (saith the Scripture) that turn judgment into 
wormwood ; " ^ and surely there be, also, that turn 
it into vinegar ; for injustice maketh it bitter, and 
delays make it sour. The principal duty of a judge 
is to suppress force and fraud ; whereof force is the 
more pernicious when it is open, and fraud when it 



1 The Mosaic law. He alludes to Deuteronomy xxvii. 17. 
*' Cursed he he that removeth his neighbor's landmark." 

2 " A righteous man falling down before the wicked is as a 
troubled fountain and a corrupt spring." — Proverbs xxv. 26. 

3 "Ye who turn judgment to wormwood, and leave off righteous- 
ness in the earth." — Amos v. 7. 



284 ESSAYS. 

is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious 
suits, which ought to be spewed out, as the surfeit 
of courts. A judge ought to prepare his way to a 
just sentence, as God useth to prepare his way, by 
raising valleys and taking down hills ; so when there 
appeareth on either side a high hand, violent pro- 
secution, cunning advantages taken, combination, 
power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge 
seen to make inequality equal, that he may plant 
his judgment as upon an even ground. " Qui for- 
titer emungit, elicit sanguinem ; " ^ and where the 
wine-press is hard wrought, it yields a harsh wine, 
that tastes of the grape-stone. Judges must beware 
of hard constructions and strained inferences ; for 
there is no worse torture than the torture of laws. 
Especially in case of laws penal, they ought to have 
care that that which was meant for terror be not 
turned into rigor ; and that they bring not upon the 
people that shower whereof the Scripture speaketh, 
^^ Pluet super eos laqueos ; " ^ for penal laws pressed,^ 
are a shower of snares upon the people. Therefore 
let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or 
if they be grown unfit for the present time, be by 

1 " He who wrings the nose strongly brings blood." Proverbs 
XXX. 33: "Surely, the churning of milk bringeth forth butter, and 
the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood; so the forcing of 
wrath bringeth forth strife." 

2 <« jje will rain snares upon them." Psalm xi. 6: "Upon the 
wicked he shall rain snares, lire, and brimstone, and an horrible 
tempest." 

3 Strained. 



OF JUDICATURE. 285 

wise judges confined in the execution: "Judicis 
officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum," &c.^ In 
causes of life and death, judges ought (as far as the 
law permitteth) in justice to remember mercy, and 
to cast a severe eye upon the example, but a merci- 
ful eye upon the person. 

Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. 
Patience ^ and gravity of hearing is an essential part 
of justice, and an overspeaking judge is no well- 
tuned cymbal. It is no grace to a judge first to 
find that which he might have heard in due time 
from the bar; or to show quickness of conceit in 
cutting off evidence or counsel too short, or to pre- 
vent information by questions, though pertinent. 
The parts of a judge in hearing are four : to direct 
the evidence ; to moderate length, repetition, or 
impertinency of speech ; to recapitulate, select, and 
collate the material points of that which hath been 
said ; and to give the rule or sentence. Whatsoever 
is above these is too much, and proceedeth either of 
glory, and willingness to speak, or of impatience to 
hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a 
staid and equal attention. It is a strange thing to 
see that the boldness of advocates should prevail 
with judges ; whereas, they should imitate God in 
whose seat they sit, who represseth the presump- 

1 " It is the duty of ca judge to consider not only the facts, but 
the circumstances of the case."— Ovid. Trist. I. i. 37. 

'^ Pliny the Younger, Ep. B. 6, E. 2, has the observation: 
" Patientiam . . . quae pars magna justiti^e est;" "Patience, 
which is a great part of justice." 



286 ESSAYS. 

tuous, and giveth grace to the modest ; but it is more 
strange, that judges should have noted favorites, 
which cannot but cause multiplication of fees, and 
suspicion of by-ways. There is due from the judge 
to the advocate some commendation and gracing, 
where causes are well handled and fair pleaded, 
especially towards the side which obtaineth not ; ^ 
for that upholds in the client the reputation of his 
counsel, and beats down in him the conceit^ of his 
cause. There is likewise due to the public a civil 
reprehension of advocates, where there appeareth 
cunning counsel, gross neglect, slight information, 
indiscreet pressing, or an over-bold defence ; and 
let not the counsel at the bar chop ^ with the judge, 
nor wind himself into the handling of the cause 
anew after the judge hath declared his sentence; 
but, on the other side, let not the judge meet the 
cause half-way, nor give occasion to the party to say, 
his counsel or proofs were not heard. * 

Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and minis- 
ters. The place of justice is a hallowed place ; and, 
therefore, not only the bench, but the foot-pace 
and precincts, and purprise thereof, ought to be 
preserved without scandal and corruption ; for, cer- 
tainly, ^' Grapes (as the Scripture saith) will not be 
gathered of thorns or thistles ; " ^ neither can justice 

1 Is not successful. 

2 Makes him to feel less confident of the goodness of his cause. 

3 Altercate, or bandy words with the judge. 

* ♦* Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ! " — St. 
Matthew vii. 16. 



OF JUDICATURE. 287 

yield her fruit with sweetness amongst the briers 
and brambles of catching and polling ^ clerks and 
ministers. The attendance of courts is subject to 
four bad instruments : first, certain persons that are 
sowers of suits, which make the court swell, and the 
country pine : the second sort is of those that engage 
courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and are not truly 
^^amici curiae," ^ but *' parasiti curiae," ^ in puffing a 
court up beyond her bounds for their own scraps 
and advantage : the third sort is of those that may 
be accounted the left hands of courts ; persons that 
are full of nimble and sinister tricks and shifts, 
whereby they pervert the plain and direct courses 
of courts, and bring justice into oblique lines and 
labyrinths : and the fourth is the poller and exacter 
of fees ; which justifies the common resemblance of 
the courts of justice to the bush, whereunto while 
the sheep flies for defence in weather, he is sure 
to lose part of his fleece. On the other side, an 
ancient clerk, skilful in precedents, wary in pro- 
ceeding, and understanding in the business of the 
court, is an excellent finger of a court, and doth 
many times point the way to the judge himself. 

Fourthly, for that which may concern the sover- 
eign and estate. Judges ought, above all, to re- 
member the conclusion of the Roman Twelve Ta- 
bles,* " Salus populi suprema lex ; " ^ and to know 

1 Plundering. 2 "Friends of the court." 

8 "Parasites," or ** flatterers of the court." 

* Which were compiled by the decemvirs. 

s "The safety of the people is the supreme law." 



288 ESSAYS. 

that laws, except they be in order to that end, are 
but thmgs captious, and oracles not well inspired; 
therefore it is a happy thing in a state, when kings 
and states do often consult with judges ; and again, 
when judges do often consult with the king and 
state : the one, when there is matter of law inter- 
venient in business of state; the other, when there 
is some consideration of state intervenient in matter 
of law ; for many times the things deduced to judg- 
ment may be " meum " ^ and " tuum," ^ when the 
reason and consequence thereof may trench to point 
of estate. I call matter of estate, not only the parts 
of sovereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great 
alteration, or dangerous precedent, or concern eth 
manifestly any great portion of people ; and let no 
man weakly conceive, that just laws and true policy 
have any antipathy, for they are like the spirits and 
sinews, that one moves with the other. Let judges 
also remember, that Solomon's throne was supported 
by lions ^ on both sides ; let them be lions, but yet 
lions under the throne, being circumspect that they 
do not check or oppose any points of sovereignty. 
Let not judges also be so ignorant of their own right, 
as to think there is not left to them, as a principal 

1 "Mine." 

2 '♦ Yours." 

3 He alludes to 1 Kings x. 19, 30 : "The throne had six steps, 
and the top of the throne was round behind ; and tliere were stays 
on either side on the place of the seat, and two lions stood beside 
the stays. And twelve lions stood there on the one side and on the 
other upon the six steps." The same verses are repeated in 1 
Chronicles ix. 18, 19. 



OF ANGER. 289 

part of their office, a wise use and application of 
laws ; for they may remember what the apostle saith 
of a greater law than theirs : " Nos scimus quia lex 
bona est, modo quis e§, utatur legitime." ^ 



LVIL — OF ANGER. 

To seek to extinguish anger utterly is but a 
bravery ^ of the Stoics. We have better oracles : 
" Be angry, but sin not ; let not the sun go down 
upon your anger." ^ Anger must be limited and 
confined, both in race and in time. We will first 
speak how the natural inclination and habit, *Ho 
be angry," may be attempered and calmed ; secondly, 
how the particular motions of anger may be repressed, 
or, at least, refrained from doing mischief; thirdly, 
how to raise anger, or appease anger in another. 

For the first, there is no other way but to medi- 
tate and ruminate well upon the effects of anger, 
how it troubles man's life ; and the best time to do 
this is, to look back upon anger when the fit is 
thoroughly over. Seneca saith well, "that anger 
is like ruin, which breaks itself upon that it falls." * 

1 ** We know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully." — 
1 Timothy i. 8. 

2 A boast. 

8 In our version it is thus rendered : ** Be ye angry, and sin not ; 
let not the sun go down upon your wrath." — Epkesians iv. 26. 
4 Sen. De Ira i. 1. 

19 



290 ESSAYS. 

The Scripture exhorteth us " to possess our souls in 
patience ;" ^ whosoever is out of patience, is out of 
possession of his soul. Men must not turn bees : — 

" animasque in viilnere ponunt."^ 

Anger is certainly a kind of baseness ; as it appears 
well in the weakness of those subjects in whom it 
reigns, children, women, old folks, sick folks. Only 
men must beware that they carry their anger rather 
with scorn than with fear ; so that they may seem 
rather to be above the injury than below it ; which 
is a thing easily done, if a man will give law to 
himself in it. 

For the second point, the causes and motives of 
anger are chiefly three. First, to be too sensible of 
hurt, for no man is angry that feels not himself hurt ; 
and therefore tender and delicate persons must needs 
be oft angry, they have so many things to trouble 
them, which more robust natures have little sense 
of: the next is, the apprehension and construction 
of the injury offered, to be, in the circumstances 
thereof, full of contempt ; for contempt is that which 
putteth an edge upon anger, as much, or more, than 
the hurt itself ; and therefore, when men are ingen- 
ious in picking out circumstances of contempt, they 
do kindle their anger much : lastly, opinion of the 
touch 2 of a man's reputation doth multiply and 

^ ** In your patience possess ye your souls." — LuTce xvi. 19. 

2 "And leave their lives in the wound." The quotation is from 
Virgil's Georgics, iv. 238. 

3 Susceptibility upon. 



OF ANGER. 291 

sharpen anger ; wherein the remedy is, that a man 
should have, as Gonsalvo was wont to say, ^' Telam 
honoris crassiorem." ^ But in all refrainings of 
anger, it is the best remedy to win time, and to 
make a man's self believe that the opportunity of 
liis revenge is not yet come ; but that he foresees 
a time for it, and so to still himself in the mean 
time, and reserve it. 

To contain anger from mischief, though it take 
hold of a man, there be two things whereof you 
must have special caution : the one, of extreme bit- 
terness of words, especially if they be aculeate and 
proper,^ for " communia maledicta " ^ are nothing so 
much; and, again, that in anger a man reveal no 
secrets, for that makes him not fit for society : the 
other, that you do not peremptorily break off in any 
business in a fit of anger ; but, howsoever you show 
bitterness, do not act any thing that is not re- 
vocable. 

For raising and appeasing anger in another, it is 
done chiefly by choosing of times when men are 
frowardest and worst disposed to incense them; 
again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that 
you can find out to aggravate the contempt : and 
the two remedies are by the contraries ; the former 
to take good times, when first to relate to a man an 
angry business, for the first impression is much ; 

1 ** A thicker covering forhis honor." 

2 Pointed and peculiarly appropriate to the party attacked. 
8 "Ordinary abuse." 



292 ESSAYS. 

and the other is, to sever, as much as may be, 
the construction of the injury from the point of 
contempt ; imputing it to misunderstanding, fear, 
passion, or what you will. 



LYIIL — OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 

Solomon saith, ^* There is no new thing upon 
the earth ; " ^ so that as Plato ^ had an imagination 
that all knowledge was but remembrance, so Solo- 
mon giveth his sentence, '*That all novelty is but 
oblivion ; " ^ whereby you may see, that the river of 
Lethe runneth as well above ground as below. 
There is an abstruse astrologer that saith, if it were 
not for two things that are constant (the one is, 
that the fixed stars ever stand at like distance one 
from another, and never come nearer together, nor 
go further asunder ; the other, that the diurnal 
motion perpetually keepeth time), no individual 
would last one moment ; certain it is, that the mat- 
ter is in a perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The 

1 " The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be ; and that 
which is done, is that which shall be done ; and there is no new 
thing under the sun. Is there any thing whereof it may be said, 
See, this is new ? It hath been already of old time, which was 
before us." — Ecclesiastes i. 9, 10. 

2 In his Phsedo. 

8 " There is no remembrance of former things : neither shall 
there be any remembrance of things that are to come, with those 
that shall come hereafter." — Ecclesiastes i. 11. 



OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 293 

great winding-sheets that bury all things in obliv- 
ion, are two, — deluges and earthquakes. As for 
conflagrations and great droughts, they do not 
merely dispeople, but destroy. Phaeton's car went 
but a day ; and the three years' drought in the time 
of Elias,^ was but particular,^ and left people alive. 
As for the great burnings by lightnings, which are 
often in the West Indies,^ they are but narrow ; * 
but in the other two destructions, by deluge and 
earthquake, it is further to be noted, that the rem- 
nant of people which happen to be reserved, are 
commonly ignorant and mountainous people, that 
can give no account of the time past; so that the 
oblivion is all one, as if none had been left. If 
you consider well of the people of the West Indies, 
it is very probable that they are a newer, or a 
younger people than the people of the old world; 
and it is much more likely that the destruction that 
hath heretofore been there, was not by earthquakes, 
(as the Egyptian priest told Solon, concerning the 



1 "And Elijah the Tishbite, who was of the inhabitants of 
Gilead, said unto Ahab, As the Lord God of Israel liveth, before 
whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but 
according to my word." — 1 Kings xvii. 1. " And it came to pass 
after many days, that the word of the Lord came to Elijah in the 
third year, saying, Go, show thyself unto Ahab ; and I will send 
rain upon the earth." — 1 Kings XNiii. 1. 

2 Confined to a limited space. 

* The whole of the continent of America then discovered is 
included under this name. 

* Limited. 



294 ESSAYS. 

Island of Atlantis.^ that it was swallowed by an 
earthquake), but rather that it was desolated by a 
particular deluge, for earthquakes are seldom in 
those parts ; but, on the other side, they have such 
pouring rivers, as the rivers of Asia, and Africa, 
and Europe, are but brooks to them. Their Andes, 
likewise, or mountains, are far higher than those 
with us ; whereby it seems, that the remnants of 
generations of men were in such a particular deluge 
saved. As for the observation that Machiavel hath, 
that the jealousy of sects doth much extinguish 
the memory of things,^ traducing Gregory the Great, 
that he did what in him lay to extinguish all 
heathen antiquities, I do not find that those zeals 
do any great effects, nor last long ; as it appeared 
in the succession of Sabinian,^ who did revive the 
former antiquities. 

The vicissitude, or mutations, in the superior 
globe, are no fit matter for this present argument. 
It may be, Plato's great year,^ if the world should 
last so long, would have some effect, not in renew- 

1 Fide Plat. Tim. iii. 24, seq. 

^ Mach. Disc. Sop. Liv. ii. 2. 

3 Sabinianiis of Volaterra was elected Bishop of Rome on tlie 
death of Gregory the Great, A. D. 604. He was of an avaricious 
disposition, and thereby incurred the popular hatred. He died 
in eighteen months after his election. 

* This Cicero speaks of as "the great year of the mathema- 
ticians." "On the Nature of the Gods," B. 4, ch. 20. By some 
it was supposed to occur after a period of 12,954 years, while, 
according to others, it was of 25,920 years' duration. — Plat. Tim. 
iii. 38, seq. 



OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 295 

ing the state of like individuals (for that is the 
fume ^ of those that conceive the celestial bodies 
have more accurate influences upon these things 
below, than indeed they have), but in gross. Com- 
ets, out of question, have likewise power and effect 
over the gross and mass of things ; but they are 
rather gazed, and waited upon^ in their journey, 
than wisely observed in their effects, especially in 
their respective effects ; that is, what kind of comet 
for magnitude, color, version of the beams, placing 
in the region of heaven, or lasting, produceth what 
kind of effects. 

There is a toy,^ which I have heard, and I would 
not have it given over, but waited upon a little. 
They say it is observed in the Low Countries (I 
know not in what part), that every five and thirty 
years the same kind and suit of years and weather 
comes about again ; as great frosts, great wet, great 
droughts, warm winters, summers with little heat, 
and the like ; and they call it the prime. It is a 
thing I do the rather mention, because, computing 
backwards, I have found some concurrence. 

But to leave these points of nature, and to come 
to men. The greatest vicissitude of things amongst 
men, is the vicissitude of sects and religions; for 
those orbs rule in men's minds most. The true 
religion is built upon the rock ; the rest are tossed 
upon the waves of time. To speak, therefore, of 

1 Conceit. 2 Observed. 

3 A curious fancy or odd conceit. 



296 ESSAYS. 

the causes of new sects, and to give some counsel 
concerning them, as far as the weakness of human 
judgment can give stay to so great revolutions. 

When the religion formerly received is rent by 
discords, and when the holiness of the professors of 
religion is decayed and full of scandal, and, withal, 
the times be stupid, ignorant, and barbarous, you 
may doubt the springing up of a new sect ; if then, 
also, there should arise any extravagant and strange 
spirit to make himself author thereof; all which 
points held when Mahomet published his law. If a 
new sect have not two properties, fear it not, for it 
will not spread. The one is the supplanting or the 
opposing of authority established, for nothing is more 
popular than that; the other is, the giving license 
to pleasures and a voluptuous life ; for as for 
speculative heresies (such as were in ancient times 
the Arians, and now the Arminians),^ though they 
work mightily upon men's wits, yet they do not 
produce any great alterations in states, except it be 
by the help of civil occasions. There be three 
manner of plantations of new sects : by the power 
of signs and miracles ; by the eloquence and 'W'isdom 
of speech and persuasion ; and by the sword. For 
martyrdoms, I reckon them amongst miracles, be- 
cause they seem to exceed the strength of human 

1 The followers of Arminius, or James Harmensen, a celebrated 
divine of the 16th and 17th centuries. Though called a heresy by- 
Bacon, his opinions have been for two centuries, and still are, held 
by a large portion of the Church of England. 



OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 297 

nature ; and I may do the like of superlative and 
admirable holiness of life. Surely, there is no better 
way to stop the rising of new sects and schisms, 
than to reform abuses ; to compound the smaller 
differences ; to proceed mildly, and not with sangui- 
nary persecutions ; and rather to take off the prin- 
cipal authors, by winning and advancing them, than 
to enrage them by violence and bitterness. 

The changes and vicissitude in wars are many, 
but chiefly in three things : in the seats or stages of 
the war, in the weapons, and in the manner of the 
conduct. Wars, in ancient time, seemed more to 
move from east to west ; for the Persians, Assyrians, 
Arabians, Tartars (which were the invaders), were 
all eastern people. It is true the Gauls were 
western ; but we read but of two incursions of 
theirs, the one to Gallo-Grsecia, the other to Rome : 
but east and west have no certain points of heaven ; 
and no more have the wars, either from the east or 
west, any certainty of observation ; but north and 
south are fixed ; and it hath seldom or never been 
seen that the far southern people have invaded the 
northern, but contrariwise : whereby it is manifest 
that the northern tract of the world is in nature 
the more martial region, be it in respect of the stars 
of that hemisphere,^ or of the great continents that 
are upon the north; whereas, the south part, for 
aught that is known, is almost all sea; or (which 

1 A belief in astrology, or at least the influence of the stars was 
almost universal in the time of Bacon. 



298 ESSAYS. 

is most apparent) of the cold of the northern parts, 
which is that which, without aid of discipline, doth 
make the bodies hardest, and the courage warmest. 
Upon the breaking and shivering of a great state 
and empire, you may be sure to have wars ; for 
great empires, while they stand, do enervate and 
destroy the forces of the natives which they have 
subdued, resting upon their own protecting forces ; 
and then, when they fail also, all goes to ruin, and 
they become a prey. So was it in the decay of the 
Roman empire, and likewise in the empire of Al- 
maigne,^ after Charles the Great,^ every bird taking 
a feather, and were not unlike to befall to Spain, if 
it should break. The great accessions and unions 
of kingdoms do likewise stir up wars ; for when a 
state grows to an over-power, it is like a great flood, 
that will be sure to overflow, as it hath been seen 
in the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and others. 
Look when the world hath fewest barbarous people, 
but such as commonly will not marry or generate, 
except they know means to live (as it is almost 
everywhere at this day, except Tartary), there is no 
danger of inundations of people ; but when there be 
great shoals of people, which go on to populate, 
without foreseeing means of life and sustenation, 
it is of necessity that once in an age or two they 
discharge a portion of their people upon other na- 
tions, which the ancient northern people were wont 
to do by lot ; casting lots what part should stay at 

1 Germany. 2 Charlemagne. 



OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 299 

home, and what should seek their fortunes. When 
a warlike state grows soft and effeminate, thej may 
be sure of a war, for commonly such states are grown 
rich in the time of their degenerating; and so the 
prey inviteth, and their decay in valor encourageth 
a war. 

As for the weapons, it hardly falleth under rule 
and observation, yet we see even they have returns 
and vicissitudes ; for certain it is that ordnance was 
known in the city of the Oxidraces, in India, and 
was that which the Macedonians^ called thunder 
and lightning, and magic ; and it is well known 
that the use of ordnance hath been in China above 
two thousand years. The conditions of weapons, 
and their improvements are, first, the fetching ^ afar 
off, for that outruns the danger, as it is seen in 
ordnance and muskets ; secondly, the strength of 
the percussion, wherein, likewise, ordnance do ex- 
ceed all arietations,^ and ancient inventions ; the 
third is, the commodious use of them, as that they 
may serve in all weathers, that the carriage may be 
light and manageable, and the like. 

For the conduct of the war: at the first, men 
rested extremely upon number; they did put the 
wars likewise upon main force and valor, pointing 
days for pitched fields, and so trying it out upon 
an even match; and they were more ignorant in 

1 When led thither by Alexander the Great. 

2 Striking. 

3 ^Application of the "aries," or battering-ram. 



300 ESSAYS. 

ranging and arraying their battles. After they 
grew to rest upon number, rather competent than 
vast, they grew to advantages of place, cunning 
diversions, and the like, and they grew more skilful 
in the ordering of their battles. 

In the youth of a state, arms do flourish ; in the 
middle age of a state, learning; and then both of 
them together for a time ; in the declining age of a 
state, mechanical arts and merchandise. Learning 
hath its infancy when it is but beginning, and 
almost childish ; then its youth, when it is luxuriant 
and juvenile ; then its strength of years, when it is 
solid and reduced ; and, lastly, its old age, when it 
waxeth dry and exhaust. But it is not good to look 
too long upon these turning wheels of vicissitude, 
lest we become giddy ; as for the philology of them, 
that is but a circle of tales, and therefore not fit for 
this writing. 



^^ 



APPENDIX TO ESSAYS. 



I. — A FRAGMENT OF AN ESSAY OF FAME.^ 

The poets make fame a monster; they describe 
her in part finely and elegantly, and in part gravely 
and sententiously ; they say, Look, how many feath- 
ers she hath, so many eyes she hath underneath, so 
many tongues, so many voices, she pricks up so 
many ears ! 

This is a flourish : there follow excellent parables ; 
as that she gathereth strength in going; that she 
goeth upon the ground, and yet hideth her head in 
the clouds ; that in the daytime she sitteth in a 
watch-tower, and flieth most by night; that she 
mingleth things done with things not done ; and that 
she is a terror to great cities ; but that which pass- 
eth all the rest is, they do recount that the Earth, 
mother of the giants that made war against Jupiter, 
and were by him destroyed, thereupon in anger 
brought forth Fame ; for certain it is, that rebels, 
figured by the giants, and seditious fames and libels, 

1 This fragment was found among Lord Bacon's papers, and 
published by Dr. Rawley in his Resuscitatio. 



302 ESSAYS. 

are but brothers and sisters, masculine and feminine. 
But now, if a man can tame this monster, and bring 
her to feed at the hand and govern her, and with 
her fly other ravening fowl, and kill them, it is some- 
what worth ; but we are infected with the style of 
the poets. To speak now in a sad and ser?ous 
manner, there is not in all the politics a place less 
handled, and more worthy to be handled, than this 
of fame. We will, therefore, speak of these points. 
What are false fames, and what are true fames, 
and how they may be best discerned ; how fames 
may be sown and raised ; how they may be spread 
and multiplied ; and how they may be checked and 
lay dead; and other things concerning the nature 
of fame. Fame is of that force, as there is scarcely 
any great action wherein it hath not a great part, 
especially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius by 
a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in pur- 
pose to remove the legions of Syria into Germany, 
and the legions of Germany into Syria; whereupon 
the legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed.^ Julius 
Csesar took Pompey unprovided, and laid asleep his 
industry and preparations by a fame that he cun- 
ningly gave out, how Csesar's own soldiers loved him 
not ; and being wearied with the wars, and laden 
with the spoils of Gaul, would forsake him as soon 
as he came into Italy.^ Livia settled all things for 
the succession of her son Tiberius, by continually 
giving out that her husband Augustus was upon 

1 Tac. Hist. ii. 80. ^ Cses. de Bell. Civ. i. 6. 



OF A KING. 303 

recovery and amendment;^ and it is a usual thing 
with the bashaws to conceal the death of the Grand 
Turk from the janizaries and men of war, to save the 
sacking of Constantinople, and other towns, as their 
manner is. Themistocles made Xerxes, king of 
Persia, post apace out of Grsecia, by giving out that 
the Grecians had a purpose to break his bridge of 
ships which he had made athwart Hellespont.^ 
There be a thousand such like examples, and the 
more they are, the less they need to be repeated, be- 
cause a man meeteth with them everywhere ; there- 
fore, let all wise governors have as great a watch 
and care over fames, as they have of the actions and 
designs themselves. 



II. — OF A KING. 

1. A KING is a mortal God on earth, unto whom 
the living God hath lent his own name as a great 
honor; but withal told him, he should die like a 
man, lest he should be proud and flatter himself, 
that God hath, with his name, imparted unto him 
his nature also. 

2. Of all kind of men, God is the least beholden 
unto them ; for he doth most for them, and they do, 
ordinarily, least for him. 

1 Tac. Ann. i. 5. 2 yy^, Herod, viii. 108, 109. 



304 ESSAYS. 

3. A king that would not feel his crown too heavy 
for him, must wear it every day ; but if he think it 
too light, he knoweth not of what metal it is made. 

4. He must make religion the rule of govern- 
ment, and not to balance the scale ; for he that cast- 
eth in religion only to make the scales even, his own 
weight is contained in those characters : '' Mene, 
mene, tekel, upharsin : He is found too light, his 
kingdom shall be taken from him." 

5. And that king that holds not religion the best 
reason of state, is void of all piety and justice, the 
supporters of a king. 

6. He must be able to give counsel himself, but 
not rely thereupon ; for though happy events justify 
their counsels, yet it is better that the evil event of 
good advice be rather imputed to a subject than a 
sovereign. 

7. He is a fountain of honor, which should not 
run with a waste-pipe, lest the courtiers sell the 
water, and then, as Papists say of their holy wells, 
it loses the virtue. 

8. He is the life of the law, not only as he is Lex 
loquens himself, but because he animateth the dead 
letter, making it active towards all his subjects 
prwmio et poena. 

9. A wise king must do less in altering his laws 
than he may ; for new government is ever dangerous. 
It being true in the body politic, as in the corporal, 
that omnis subita immutatio est periculosa ; and 
though it be for the better, yet it is not without 



OF A KING. 305 

a fearful apprehension ; for he that changeth the 
fundamental laws of a kingdom, thinketh there is 
no good title to a crown, but by conquest. 

iO. A king that setteth to sale seats of justice, 
oppresseth the people; for he teacheth his judges 
to sell justice ; and pretio imrata pretio venditur 
justitia. 

11. Bounty and magnificence are virtues very 
regal, but a prodigal king is nearer a tyrant than a 
parsimonious ; for store at home draweth not his 
contemplations abroad, but want supplieth itself of 
what is next, and many times the next way. A 
king therein must be wise, and know what he may 
justly do. 

12. That king which is not feared, is not loved; 
and he that is well seen in his craft, must as well 
study to be feared as loved ; yet not loved for fear, 
but feared for love. 

13. Therefore, as he must always resemble Him 
whose great name he beareth, and that as in mani- 
festing the sweet influence of his mercy on the severe 
stroke of his justice sometimes, so in this not to 
suffer a man of death to live ; for, besides that the 
land doth mourn, the restraint of justice towards 
sin doth more retard the affection of love, than the 
extent of mercy doth inflame it ; and sure, where 
love is [ill] bestowed, fear is quite lost. 

14. His greatest enemies are his flatterers; for 
though they ever speak on his side, yet their words 
still make against him. 

20 



306 ESSAYS. 

15. The love which a king oweth to a weal public 
should not be overstrained to any one particular; 
yet that his more especial favor do reflect upon 
some worthy ones, is somewhat necessary, because 
there are few of that capacity. 

16. He must have a special care of five things, 
if he would not have his crown to be but to him 
infelix felicitas. 

First, that simulata sanctitas be not in the church ; 
for that is duplex iniquitas. 

Secondly, that inutilis cequitas sit not in the chan- 
cery ; for that is inepta misericordia. 

Thirdly, that utilis iniquitas keep not the ex- 
chequer; for that is crudele latrocinium. 

Fourthly, that fidelis temeritas be not his general ; 
for that will bring but seram pcEnitentiam. 

Fifthly, that infidelis prudentia be not his secre- 
tary ; for that is anguis sub viridi herhd. 

To conclude : as he is of the greatest power, so 
he is subject to the greatest cares, made the servant 
of his people, or else he were without a calling at all. 

He, then, that honoreth him not is next an atheist, 
wanting the fear of God in his heart. 



ON DEATH. 307 



III. ^ ON DEATH. 

1. I HAVE often thought upon death, and I find 
it the least of all evils. All that which is past is as 
a dream ; and he that hopes or depends upon time 
coming, dreams waking. So much of our life as 
we have discovered is already dead ; and all those 
hours which we share, even from the breasts of our 
mothers, until we return to our grandmother the 
earth, are part of our dying days, whereof even 
this is one, and those that succeed are of the same 
nature, for we die daily ; and, as others have given 
place to us, so we must, in the end, give way to 
others. 

2. Physicians, in the name of death, include all 
sorrow, anguish, disease, calamity, or whatsoever 
can fall in the life of man, either grievous or un- 
welcome. But these things are familiar unto us, 
and we suffer them every hour; therefore we die 
daily, and I am older since I affirmed it. 

3. I know many wise men that fear to die, for 
the change is bitter, and flesh would refuse to prove 
it; besides, the expectation brings terror, and that 
exceeds the evil. But I do not believe that any 
man fears to be dead, but only the stroke of death ; 
and such are my hopes, that if Heaven be pleased, 
and nature renew but my lease for twenty-one years 
more without asking longer days, I shall be strong 



oiunidi to aokiiowloiliro Avitliout nu>\iniin<;*, that I 
was boirottcn mortal. Virtuo walks not in tho liigh- 
way, thouiih she i^-o per dlia : this is strength and 
tho Mood to virtno. to contonni thiniirs that bo do- 
sired, and to iiodoot that which is iVarod. 

4. AVhy should man bo in lovo with his fottors, 
thonirh of £:o\d i Art thou drownod in soourity? 
Thou I say tluni art portootly doad. For though 
thou miwost, yet thy soul is buried within thoo, and 
thy good angol either forsakes his guard, or sloops. 
There is nothing under heaven, saving a true friend 
(who cannot be counted within tho nund^er of niov- 
ftbles\ unto which my heart doth loan. And this 
dear freedom hath begotten me this peace, that I 
mourn not for that end which must be, nor spend 
one wish to have one minute added to the uncertain 
date of my years. It was no mean apprehension 
of Lucian. who says of Monippus, that in his travels 
through hell, he know not the kings of the earth 
from other men but only by their louder cryings 
and tears, which were fostered in them through the 
remorseful memory of tho good days they had seen, 
and the fruitful havings whicli they so unwillingly 
loft behind them. He that was well seated, looked 
back at his portion, and was loath to forsake his 
farm ; and others, either minding marriages, pleasures, 
profit, or proferment, desired to be excused from 
deaths banquet. They had made an appointment 
with earth, looking at the blessings, not the hand 
that enlarged them, forgetting how unclothodly they 



ON DEATH, 309 

carrie hither, or with what naked omarrifrnt^ they 
were arrayed. 

o. But were we H^;rv'antH of the preoept given, 
and o^.^»er\'c^■i of the heathen.^ nile, Mcjo/'Mo ffif/n,^ 
and not hecf)me beni^^hted with this seeming felic- 
ity, we should enjoy it as men prepared to lo«e, 
and not wind up our thoughts ujXiU so jxrriiihing a 
fortune. He that i.s not slackly strong ^ai< the 
fiervantri of pleai*ure^, how can he be found unready 
to quit the vail and false \Tsage of his perfection? 
Tlie soul having shaken off her flesh, doth then set 
up for herself, and contemning things that are 
under, shows what finger hath enforced her: for the 
souls of idiots are of the same piece with thf/se of 
statesmen, but now and then nature is at a fault, 
and this good guest of ours takes soil in an imper- 
fect brxly, and so is slackened from showing her 
wonders, like an excellent musician, which cannot 
utter himself upon a defective instrument. 

6. But see how I am s^ver\'ed, and lose my 
course, touching at the soul that doth least hold 
action with death, who hath the surest property in 
this frail act ; his style is the end of all flesh, and 
the beginning of incorruption. 

This ruler of monuments leads men, for the most 
part, out of this world with their heels forward, in 
token that he is contrary to life, which being ob- 
tained, sends men headlong into this wretched thea- 
tre, where, being arrive<l, their first language is that 
of mourning. Xor, in my own thoughts, can I com- 



310 ESSAYS. 

pare men more fitly to any thing than to the Indian 
fig-tree, which, being ripened to his full height, is 
said to decline his branches down to the earth, 
whereof she conceives again, and they become roots 
in their own stock. 

So man, having derived his being from the earth, 
first lives the life of a tree, drawing his nourish- 
ment as a plant, and made ripe for death, he tends 
downwards, and is sown again in his mother the 
earth, where he perisheth not, but expects a quick- 
ening. 

7. So we see death exempts not a man from be- 
ing, but only presents an alteration ; yet there are 
some men (I think) that stand otherwise persuaded. 
Death finds not a worse friend than an alderman, 
to whose door I never knew him welcome ; but he 
is an importunate guest, and will not be said nay. 

And though they themselves shall afiirm that 
they are not within, yet the answer will not be 
taken ; and that which heightens their fear is, that 
they know they are in danger to forfeit their flesh, 
but are not wise of the payment-day, which sickly 
uncertainty is the occasion that (for the most part) 
they step out of this world unfurnished for their 
general account, and, being all unprovided, desire 
yet to hold their gravity, preparing their souls to 
answer in scarlet. 

Thus I gather, that death is unagreeable to most 
citizens, because they commonly die intestate; this 
being a rule, that when their will is made, they 



ON DEATH. 311 

think themselves nearer a grave than before. Now 
they, out of the wisdom of thousands, think to scare 
destiny, from which there is no appeal, by not mak- 
ing a will, or to live longer by protestation of their 
unwillingness to die. They are, for the most part, 
well made in this world (accounting their treasure 
by legions, as men do devils). Their fortune looks 
towards them, and they are willing to anchor at it, 
and desire (if it be possible) to put the evil day far 
off from them, and to adjourn their ungrateful and 
killing period. 

No, these are not the men which have bespoken 
death, or whose looks are assured to entertain a 
thought of him. 

8. Death arrives gracious only to such as sit in 
darkness, or lie heavy burdened with grief and irons ; 
to the poor Christian, that sits bound in the galley ; 
to despairful widows, pensive prisoners, and deposed 
kings ; to them whose fortune runs back, and whose 
spirits mutiny : unto such, death is a redeemer, and 
the grave a place for retiredness and rest. 

These wait upon the shore of death, and waft unto 
him to draw near, wishing above all others to see 
his star, that they might be led to his place ; wooing 
the remorseless sisters to wind down the watch of 
their life, and to break them off before the hour. 

9. But death is a doleful messenger to a usurer, 
and fate untimely cuts their thread ; for it is never 
mentioned by him, but when rumors of war and 
civil tumults put him in mind thereof. 



312 ESSAYS. 

And when many hands are armed, and the peace 
of a city in disorder, and the foot of the common 
soldiers sounds an alarm on his stairs, then perhaps 
such a one (broken in thoughts of his moneys abroad, 
and cursing the monuments of coin which are in 
his house) can be content to think of death, and 
(being hasty of perdition) will perhaps hang himself, 
lest his throat should be cut ; provided that he may 
do it in his study, surrounded with wealth, to which 
his eye sends a faint and languishing salute, even 
upon the turning off; remembering always, that he 
have time and liberty, by writing, to depute himself 
as his own heir. 

For that is a great peace to his end, and recon- 
ciles him wonderfully upon the point. 

10. Herein we all dally with ourselves, and are 
without proof of necessity. I am not of those, that 
dare promise to pine away myself in vainglory, and 
I hold such to be but feat boldness, and them that 
dare commit it, to be vain. Yet, for my part, I 
think nature should do me great wrong, if I should 
be so long in dying, as I was in being born. 

To speak truth, no man knows the lists of his 
own patience, nor can divine how able he shall be 
in his sufferings, till the storm come (the perfectest 
virtue being tried in action); but I would (out of a 
care to do the best business well) ever keep a guard, 
and stand upon keeping faith and a good conscience. 

11. And if wishes might find place, I would die 
together, and not my mind often, and my body once ; 



ON DEATH. 313 

that is, I would prepare for the messengers of death, 
sickness, and affliction, and not wait long, or be 
attempted by the violence of pain. 

Herein I do not profess myself a Stoic, to hold 
grief no evil, but opinion, and a thing indifferent. 

But I consent with Csesar, that the suddenest 
passage is easiest, and there is nothing more awak- 
ens our resolve and readiness to die than the qui- 
eted conscience, strengthened with opinion that w^e 
shall be w^ell spoken of upon earth by those that 
are just, and of the family of virtue ; the opposite 
whereof is a fury to man, and makes even life 
unsweet. 

Therefore, what is more heavy than evil fame 
deserved? Or, likewise, who can see worse days, 
than he that, yet living, doth follow at the funerals 
of his own reputation? 

I have laid up many hopes, that I am privileged 
from that kind of mourning, and could wish the like 
peace to all those with whom I wage love. 

12. I might say much of the commodities that 
death can sell a man ; but, briefly, death is a friend 
of ours, and he that is not ready to entertain him, 
is not at home. Whilst I am, my ambition is not 
to foreflow the tide ; I have but so to make my 
interest of it as I may account for it ; I w^ould wish 
nothing but what might better my days, nor desire 
any greater place than the front of good opinion. 
I make not love to the continuance of days, but to 
the goodness of them; nor wish to die, but refer 



314 ESSAYS. 

myself to my hour, which the great Dispenser of all 
things hath appointed me; yet, as I am frail, and 
suffered for the first fault, were it given me to 
choose, I should not be earnest to see the evening 
of my age ; that extremity, of itself, being a dis- 
ease, and a mere return into infancy ; so that, if 
perpetuity of life might be given me, I should think 
what the Greek poet said ; " Such an age is a mor- 
tal evil." And since I must needs be dead, I require 
it may not be done before mine enemies, that I be not 
stript before I be cold ; but before my friends. The 
night is even now : but that name is lost ; it is not 
now late, but early. Mine eyes begin to discharge 
their watch, and compound with this fleshly weak- 
ness for a time of perpetual rest ; and I shall pres- 
ently be as happy for a few hours, as I had died 
the first hour I was born. 



THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 



PREFACE. 



The earliest antiquity lies buried in silence and ob- 
livion, excepting the remains we have of it in sacred 
writ. This silence was succeeded by poetical fables, 
and these, at length, by the writings we now enjoy ; so 
that the concealed and secret learning of the ancients 
seems separated from the history and knowledge of 
the following ages by a veil, or partition-wall of fables, 
interposing between the things that are lost and those 
that remain.^ 

Many may imagine that I am here entering upon a 
work of fancy, or amusement, and design to use a poet- 
ical liberty, in explaining poetical fables. It is true, 
fables, in general, are composed of ductile matter, that 
may be drawn into great variety by a witty talent or an 
inventive genius, and be delivered of plausible meanings 

1 Varro distributes the ages of the world into three periods; 
viz : the unknown, the fabulous, and the historical. Of the former, 
we have no accounts hut in Scripture ; for the second, we must 
consult the ancient poets, such as Hesiod, Homer, or those who 
wrote still earlier, and then again come back to 0\T.d, who, in his 
Metamorphoses, seems, in imitation perhaps of some ancient Greek 
poet, to have intended a complete collection, or a kind of continued 
and connected history of the fabulous age, especially with regard 
to changes, revolutions, or transformations. 



318 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

which they never contamed. But this procedure has 
already been carried to excess ; and great numbers, to 
procure the sanction of antiquity to their own notions 
and inventions, have miserably wrested and abused 
the fables of the ancients. 

Nor is this only a late or unfrequent practice, but of 
ancient date and common even to this da}'. Thus 
Chrj-sippus, like an interpreter of dreams, attributed 
the opinions of the Stoics to the poets of old ; and the 
chemists, at present, more childishly apply the poetical 
transformations to their experiments of the furnace. 
And though I have well weighed and considered all 
this, and thoroughly seen into the levit}^ which the mind 
indulges for allegories and allusions, yet I cannot but 
retain a high value for the ancient mytholog3\ And, 
certainly, it were yery injudicious to suffer the fondness 
and licentiousness of a few to detract from the honor 
of allegor}^ and parable in general. This would be 
rash, and almost profane ; for, since religion delights in 
such shadows and disguises, to abolish them were, in 
a manner, to prohibit all intercourse betwixt things 
divine and human. 

Upon deliberate consideration, my judgment is, that 
a concealed instruction and allegory was originally in- 
tended in many of the ancient fables. This opinion 
may, in some respect, be owing to the veneration I 
have for antiquity, but more to observing that some 
fables discover a great and evident similitude, relation, 
and connection with the thing they signifj', as well in 
the structure of the fable as in the propriety of the 
names whereby the persons or actors are characterized ; 
insomuch, that no one could positively deny a sense 



PEEFACE. 319 

and meaning to be from the first intended, and pur- 
posely shadowed out in them. For who can hear that 
Fame, after the giants were destro3'ed, sprung up as 
their posthumous sister, and not apply it to the clamor 
of parties and the seditious rumors which commonly 
Qy about for a time upon the quelling of insurrections ? 
Or who can read how the giant T3^phon cut out and 
carried away Jupiter's sinews — which Mercury after- 
wards stole, and again restored to Jupiter — and not 
presently observe that this allegory denotes strong and 
powerful rebellions, which cut away from kings their 
sinews, both of money and authority ; and that the way 
to have them restored is by lenit}', affabilit}', and pru- 
dent edicts, which soon reconcile, and, as it were, steal 
upon the affections of the subject? Or who, upon 
hearing that memorable expedition of the gods against 
the giants, when the bra3'ing of Silenus's ass greatly 
contributed in putting the giants to flight, does not 
clearly conceive that this directly points at the mon- 
strous enterprises of rebeUious subjects, which are fre- 
quently frustrated and disappointed by vain fears and 
empt}' rumors? 

Again, the conformity and purport of the names is 
frequentty manifest and self-evident. Thus Metis, the 
wife of Jupiter, plainly signifies counsel ; Tj'phon, 
swelling ; Pan, universalitj' ; Nemesis, revenge, &c. Nor 
is it a wonder, if sometimes a piece of histor}^ or other 
things are introduced, b\' way of ornament ; or, if the 
times of the action are confounded ; or, if part of one 
fable be tacked to another ; or, if the allegory be new 
turned ; for all this must necessarilj^ happen, as the 
fables were the inventions of men who lived in different 



320 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

ages, and had different views ; some of them being 
ancient, others more modern ; some having an eye to 
natural philosoph}', and others to moraUty or civil 
policy. 

It may pass for a further indication of a concealed 
and secret meaning, that some of these fables are so 
absurd and idle in their narration, as to show and pro- 
claim an allegory, even afar off. A fable that carries 
probability with it may be supposed invented for pleas- 
ure, or in imitation of history ; but those that could 
never be conceived or related in this way must surely 
have a different use. For example, what a monstrous 
fiction is this, that Jupiter should take Metis to wife, 
and as soon as he found her pregnant eat her up, 
whereb}^ he also conceived, and out of his head brought 
forth Pallas armed. Certainly no mortal could, but 
for the sake of the moral it couches, invent such an 
absurd dream as this, so much out of the road of 
thought ! 

But the argument of most w^cight with me is this, 
that man}- of these fables by no means appear to have 
been invented by the persons who relate and divulge 
them, whether Homer, Hesiod, or others ; for if I were 
assured the}- first flowed from those later times and 
authors that transmit them to us, I should never ex- 
pect any thing singularly great or noble from such an 
origin. But whoever attentivel}^ considers the thing, 
will find that these fables are delivered down and 
related by those writers, not as matters then first 
invented and proposed, but as things received and em- 
braced in earlier ages. Besides, as they are differently 
related bj' writers nearly- of the same ages, it is easily 



PKEFACE. 321 

perceived that the relators drew from the common 
stock of ancient tradition, and varied but in point of 
embellishment, which is their own. And this princi- 
pall}^ raises m}' esteem of these fables, w^hich I receive, 
not as the product of the age, or invention of the poets, 
but as sacred relics, gentle whispers, and the breath of 
better times, that from the traditions of more ancient 
nations came, at length, into the flutes and trumpets 
of the Greeks. But if any one shall, notwithstanding 
this, contend that allegories are always adventitious, or 
imposed upon the ancient fables, and no wa}" native or 
genuinely contained in them, we might here leave him 
undisturbed in that gravity of judgment he affects 
(though we cannot help accounting it somewhat dull 
and phlegmatic), and, if it were worth the trouble, 
proceed to another kind of argument. 

Men have proposed to answer two different and con- 
trary ends by the use of parable ; for parables serve as 
well to instruct or illustrate as to wrap up and envelop ; 
so that though, for the present, we drop the concealed 
use, and suppose the ancient fables to be vague, unde- 
terminate things, formed for amusement, still, the other 
use must remain, and can never be given up. And 
every man, of any learning, must readih^ allow that 
this method of instructing is grave, sober, or exceed- 
ingly useful, and sometimes necessarj' in the sciences, 
as it opens an easy and familiar passage to the human 
understanding, in all new discoveries that are abstruse 
and out of the road of vulgar ophiions. Hence, in the 
first ages, when such inventions and conclusions of the 
human reason as are now trite and common w^ere new 
and little known, all things abounded with fables, para- 
21 



322 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

bles, similes, comparisons, and allusions, which were 
not intended to conceal, but to inform and teach, whilst 
the minds of men continued rude and unpractised in 
matters of subtilt}' and speculation, or even impatient, 
and in a manner incapable of receiving such things as 
did not fall directly under and strike the senses. For 
as hierogl3'phics were in use before writing, so were 
parables in use before arguments. And even to this 
day, if any man would let new light in upon the human 
understanding, and conquer prejudice, without raising 
contests, animosities, opposition, or disturbance, he 
must still go in the same path, and have recourse to 
the like method of allegor}-, metaphor, and allusion. 

To conclude, the knowledge of the early ages was 
either great or happy ; great, if thej^ b}^ design made 
this use of trope and figure ; happy, if, whilst they had 
other views, the}' afforded matter and occasion to such 
noble contemplations. Let either be the case, our 
pains, perhaps, will not be misemployed, whether we 
Illustrate antiquity or things themselves. 

The like, indeed, has been attempted by others ; but, 
to speak ingenuously, their great and voluminous labors 
have almost destro3'ed the energy", the efficacy, and 
grace of the thing ; whilst, being unskilled in nature, 
and their learning no more than that of commonplace, 
they have applied the sense of the parables to certain 
general and vulgar matters, without reaching to their 
real purport, genuine interpretation, and full depth. 
For myself, therefore, I expect to appear new in these 
common things, because, leaving untouched such as 
are sufficient^ plain and open, I shall drive only at 
those that are either deep or rich. 



THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

A SERIES OF MYTHOLOGICAL FABLES.^ 



I. — CASSANDRA, OR DIVINATION. 

EXPLAINED OF TOO FREE AND UNSEASONABLE ADVICE. 

The poets relate, that Apollo, falling in love 
with Cassandra, was still deluded and put off by 
her, yet fed with hopes, till she had got from him 
the gift of prophesy; and, having now obtained 
her end, she flatly rejected his suit. Apollo, unable 
to recall his rash gift, yet enraged to be outwitted 
by a girl, annexed this penalty to it, that though 
she should always prophesy true, she should never 
be believed ; whence her divinations were always 
slighted, even when she again and again predicted 
the ruin of her country. 

Explanation. — This fable seems invented to 
express the insignificance of unseasonable advice. 
For they who are conceited, stubborn, or intracta- 
ble, and listen not to the instructions of Apollo, the 
god of harmony, so as to learn and observe the 

1 Most of these fables are contained in Ovid's Metamorphoses 
and Fasti, and are fully explained in Bohn's Classical Library 
translation. 



324 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

modulatioDS and measures of affairs, the sharps and 
flats of discourse, the diiference between judicious 
and vulgar ears, and the proper times of speech 
and silence, let them be ever so intelligent, and ever 
so frank of their advice, or their counsels ever so 
good and just, yet all their endeavors, either of 
persuasion or force, are of little significance, and 
rather hasten the ruin of those they advise. But, 
at last, when the calamitous event has made the 
sufferers feel the effect of their neglect, they too 
late reverence their advisers, as deep, foreseeing, 
and faithful prophets. 

Of this, we have a remarkable instance in Cato 
of Utica, who discovered afar off, and long foretold, 
the approaching ruin of his country, both in the 
first conspiracy, and as it was prosecuted in the civil 
war between Caesar and Pompey, yet did no good 
the while, but rather hurt the commonwealth, and 
hurried on its destruction, which Cicero wisely ob- 
served in these words : ^^ Cato, indeed, judges excel- 
lently, but prejudices the state ; for he speaks as in 
the commonwealth of Plato, and not as in the dregs 
of Romulus." 



IL — TYPHON, OR A REBEL. 

EXPLAINED OF REBELLION. 

The fable runs, that Juno, enraged at Jupiter's 
bringing forth Pallas without her assistance, inces- 
santly solicited all the gods and goddesses, thai she 



TYPHON, OR A REBEL. 325 

might produce without Jupiter ; and having by vio- 
lence and importunity obtained the grant, she struck 
the earth, and thence immediately sprung up Ty- 
phon, a huge and dreadful monster, whom she com- 
mitted to the nursing of a serpent. As soon as he 
was grown up, this monster waged war on Jupiter, 
and taking him prisoner, in the battle, carried him 
away on his shoulders, into a remote and obscure 
quarter; and there cutting out the sinews of his 
hands and feet, he bore them off, leaving Jupiter 
behind miserably maimed and mangled. 

But Mercury afterwards stole these sinews from 
Typhon, and restored them to Jupiter. Hence, re- 
covering his strength, Jupiter again pursues the 
monster; first wounds him with a stroke of his 
thunder, when serpents arose from the blood of 
the wound; and now the monster being dismayed, 
and taking to flight, Jupiter next darted Mount 
iEtna upon him, and crushed him with the weight. 

Explanation. — This fable seems designed to 
express the various fates of kings, and the turns 
that rebellions sometimes take, in kingdoms. For 
princes may be justly esteemed married to their 
states, as Jupiter to Juno; but it sometimes hap- 
pens, that, being depraved by long wielding of the 
sceptre, and growing tyrannical, they would engross 
all to themselves, and, slighting the counsel of their 
senators and nobles, conceive by themselves ; that 
is, govern according to their own arbitrary will and 



326 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

pleasure. This inflames the people, and makes them 
endeavor to create and set up some head of their 
own. Such designs are generally set on foot by the 
secret motion and instigation of the peers and nobles, 
under whose connivance the common sort are pre- 
pared for rising; whence proceeds a swell in the 
state, which is appositely denoted by the nursing 
of Typhon. This growing posture of affairs is fed 
by the natural depravity and malignant dispositions 
of the vulgar, which to kings is an envenomed 
serpent. And now the disaffected, uniting their 
force, at length break out into open rebellion, which, 
producing infinite mischiefs, both to prince and 
people, is represented by the horrid and multiplied 
deformity of Typhon, with his hundred heads, de- 
noting the divided powers; his flaming mouths, 
denoting fire and devastation; his girdles of snakes, 
denoting sieges and destruction; his iron hands, 
slaughter and cruelty; his eagle's talons, rapine 
and plunder; his plumed body, perpetual rumors, 
contradictory accounts, &c. And sometimes these 
rebellions grow so high, that kings are obliged, as 
if carried on the backs of the rebels, to quit the 
throne, and retire to some remote and obscure part 
of their dominions, with the loss of their sinews, 
both of money and majesty. 

But if now they prudently bear this reverse of 
fortune, they may, in a short time, by the assistance 
of Mercury, recover their sinews again ; that is, 
by becoming moderate and affable; reconciling the 



THE CYCLOPS, OR MINISTERS OF TERROR. 327 

minds and affections of the people to them, by gra- 
cious speeches and prudent proclamations, which 
will win over the subject cheerfully to aflbrd new 
aids and supplies, and add fresh vigor to authority. 
But prudent and wary princes here seldom incline to 
try fortune by a war, yet do their utmost, by some 
grand exploit, to crush the reputation of the rebels ; 
and if the attempt succeeds, the rebels, conscious 
of the wound received, and distrustful of their cause, 
first betake themselves to broken and empty threats, 
like the hissings of serpents ; and next, when matters 
are grown desperate, to flight. And now, when 
they thus begin to shrink, it is safe and seasonable 
for kings to pursue them with their forces, and the 
whole strength of the kingdom; thus effectually 
quashing and suppressing them, as it were by the 
weight of a mountain. 



III.— THE CYCLOPS, OR THE MINISTERS 
OF TERROR. 

EXPLAINED OF BASE COURT OFFICERS. 

It is related that the Cyclops, for their savage- 
ness and cruelty, were by Jupiter first thrown into 
Tartarus, and there condemned to perpetual impris- 
onment; but that afterwards Tellus persuaded Ju- 
piter it would be for his service to release them, 
and employ them in forging thunderbolts. This 



328 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

he accordingly did ; and they, with unwearied pains 
and diligence, hammered out his bolts, and other 
instruments of terror, with a frightful and continual 
din of the anvil. 

It happened, long after, that Jupiter was dis- 
pleased with ^sculapius, the son of Apollo, for 
having, by the art of medicine, restored a dead man 
to life; but concealing his indignation, because the 
action in itself was pious and illustrious, he secretly 
incensed the Cyclops against him, who, without 
remorse, presently slew him with their thunderbolts : 
in revenge whereof, Apollo, with Jupiter's conni- 
vance, shot them all dead with his arrows. 

Explanation. — This fable seems to point at 
the behavior of princes, who, having cruel, bloody, 
and oppressive ministers, first punish and displace 
them ; but afterwards, by the advice of Tellus, that 
is, some earthly-minded and ignoble person, employ 
them again, to serve a turn, when there is occasion 
for cruelty in execution, or severity in exaction ; 
but these ministers being base in their nature, whet 
by their former disgrace, and well aware of what is 
expected from them, use double diligence in their 
office ; till, proceeding unwarily, and over-eager to 
gain favor, they sometimes, from the private nods, 
and ambiguous orders of their prince, perform some 
odious or execrable action : when princes, to decline 
the envy themselves, and knowing they shall never 
want such tools at their back, drop them, and give 



NARCISSUS, OR SELF-LOVE. 329 

them up to the friends and followers of the injured 
person ; thus exposing them, as sacrifices to revenge 
and popular odium : whence, with great applause, 
acclamations, and good wishes to the prince, these 
miscreants at last meet with their desert. 



lY. — NARCISSUS, OR SELF-LOVE. 

Narcissus is said to have been extremely beautiful 
and comely, but intolerably proud and disdainful ; so 
that, pleased with himself, and scorning the world, 
he led a solitary life in the woods ; hunting only 
with a few followers, who were his professed admirers, 
amongst whom the nymph Echo was his constant at- 
tendant. In this method of life, it was once his fate 
to approach a clear fountain, where he laid himself 
down to rest, in the noonday heat ; when, beholding 
his image in the water, he fell into such a rapture and 
admiration of himself, that he could by no means be 
got away, but remained continually fixed and gazing, 
till at length he was turned into a flower, of his own 
name, which appears early in the spring, and is con- 
secrated to the infernal deities, Pluto, Proserpine, and 
the Furies. 

Explanation. — This fable seems to paint the be- 
havior and fortune of those, who, for their beauty, or 
other endowments, wherewith nature (without any 



330 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

industry of their own) has graced and adorned them, 
are extravagantly fond of themselves : for men of such 
a disposition generally affect retirement, and absence 
from public affairs ; as a life of business must neces- 
sarily subject them to many neglects and contempts, 
which mio^ht disturb and ruffle their minds : whence 
such persons commonly lead a solitary, private, and 
shadowy life : see little company, and those only such 
as highly admire and reverence them ; or, like an 
echo, assent to all they say. 

And they who are depraved, and rendered still 
fonder of themselves by this custom, grow strangely 
indolent, inactive, and perfectly stupid. The Narcis- 
sus, a spring flower, is an elegant emblem of this 
temper, which at first flourishes, and is talked of, 
but, when ripe, frustrates the expectation conceived 
of it. 

And that this flower should be sacred to the infer- 
nal powers, carries out the allusion still further ; be- 
cause men of this humor are perfectly useless in all 
respects : for whatever yields no fruit, but passes, and 
is no more, like the way of a ship in the sea, was by 
the ancients consecrated to the infernal shades and 
powers. 



THE KIVER STYX, OR LEAGUES. 331 



v. — THE RIYER STYX, OR LEAGUES. 

EXPLAINED OF NECESSITY, IN THE OATHS OR SOLEMN 
LEAGUES OF PRINCES. 

The only solemn oath, by wliich the gods irrevoca- 
bly obliged themselves, is a well known thing, and 
makes a part of many ancient fables. To this oath 
they did not invoke any celestial divinity, or divine 
attribute^ but only called to witness the River Styx, 
which, with many meanders, surrounds the infernal 
court of Dis. For this form alone, and none but this, 
was held inviolable and obligatory ; and the punish- 
ment of falsifying it, was that dreaded one of being 
excluded, for a certain number of years, the table of 
the gods. 

Explanation. — This fable seems invented to show 
the nature of the compacts and confederacies of prin- 
ces ; which, tliough ever so solemnly and religiously 
sworn to, prove but little the more binding for it : 
so that oaths, in this case, seem used rather for de- 
corum, reputation, and ceremony, than for fidelity, 
security, and effectuating. And though these oaths 
were strengthened with the bonds of affinity, which 
are the links and ties of nature, and again, by mutual 
services and good offices, yet we see all this will gen- 
erally give way to ambition, convenience, and the 
thirst of power : the rather, because it is easy for 
princes, under various specious pretences, to defend, 



332 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

disofuise, and conceal their ambitious desires and in- 
sincerity, having no judge to call them to account. 
There is, however, one true and proper confirmation 
of their faith, though no celestial divinity, but that 
great divinity of princes, Necessity ; or, the danger 
of the state ; and the securing of advantage. 

This necessity is elegantly represented by Styx, the 
fatal river that can never be crossed back. And tliis 
deity it v^^as, which Iphicrates the Athenian invoked 
in making a league ; and because he roundly and 
openly avows what most others studiously conceal, it 
may be proper to give his own words. Observing 
that the Lacedaemonians were inventing and propos- 
ing a variety of securities, sanctions, and bonds of 
alliance, he interrupted them thus : " There may, in- 
deed, my friends, be one bond and means of security 
between us ; and that is, for you to demonstrate you 
have delivered into our hands, such things as that, if 
you had the greatest desire to hurt us, you could not 
be able." Therefore, if the power of offending be 
taken away, or if, by a breach of compact, there be 
danger of destruction or diminution to the state or trib- 
ute, then it is that covenants will be ratified, and 
confirmed, as it were by the Stygian oath, whilst 
there remains an impending danger of being prohib- 
ited and excluded the banquet of the gods ; by which 
expression the ancients denoted the rights and pre- 
rogatives, the affluence and the felicities, of empire 
and dominion. 



PAN, OR NATUEE. 333 

VL — PAN, OR NATURE. 1 

EXPLAINED OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The ancients have, with great exactness, delineated 
universal nature under the person of Pan. They 
leave his origin doubtful ; some asserting him the son 
of Mercury, and others the common offspring of all 
Penelope's suitors. The latter supposition doubtless 
occasioned some later rivals to entitle this ancient 
fable Penelope ; a thing frequently practised when 
the earlier relations are applied to more modern 
characters and persons, though sometimes with great 
absurdity and ignorance, as in the present case ; for 
Pan was one of the ancientest gods, and long before 
the time of Ulysses ; besides, Penelope was venerated 
by antiquity for her matronal chastity. A third sort 
will have him the issue of Jupiter and Hybris, that is, 
Reproach. But whatever his origin was, the Desti- 
nies are allowed his sisters. 

He is described by antiquity, with pyramidal horns 
reaching up to heaven, a rough and shaggy body, a 
very long beard, of a biform figure, human above, half 
brute below, ending in goat's feet. His arms, or en- 
signs of power, are, a pipe in his left hand, composed 
of seven reeds ; in his right a crook ; and he wore for 
his mantle a leopard's skin. 

His attributes and titles were the god of hunters, 

1 Homer's Hymn to Pau. 



334 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

shepherds, and all the rural inhabitants ; president 
of the mountains ; and, after Mercury, the next mes- 
senger of the gods. He was also held the leader and 
ruler of the Nymphs, who continually danced and 
frisked about him, attended with the Satyrs and their 
elders, the Sileni. He had also the power of striking 
terrors, especially such as were vain and superstitious ; 
whence they came to be called panic terrors. ^ 

Few actions are recorded of him ; only a principal 
one is, that he challenged Cupid at wrestling, and 
was worsted. He also catched the giant Typhon 
in a net, and held him fast. They relate further of 
him, that when Ceres, grooving disconsolate for the 
rape of Proserpine, hid herself, and all the gods 
took the utmost pains to find her, by going out dif- 
ferent ways for that purpose, Pan only had the good 
fortune to meet her, as he was hunting, and discov- 
ered her to the rest. He likewise had the assurance 
to rival Apollo in music, and in the judgment of 
Midas was preferred; but the judge had, though 
with great privacy and secrecy, a pair of ass's ears 
fastened on him for his sentence.^ 

There is very little said of his amours ; which 
may seem strange among such a multitude of gods, 
so profusely amorous. He is only reported to have 
been very fond of Echo, who was also esteemed 
his wife ; and one nymph more, called Syrinx, with 
the love of whom Cupid inflamed him for his in- 
solent challenge ; so he is reported once to have 

1 Cicero, Epistle to Atticus, 6. 2 Ovid, Metamorphoses, b. ii. 



PAN, OR NATURE. 335 

solicited the moon to accompany him apart into the 
deep woods. 

Lastly, Pan had no descendant, which also is a 
wonder, when the male gods were so extremely 
prolific ; only he was the reputed father of a servant- 
girl called lambe, who used to divert strangers with 
her ridiculous prattling stories. 

This fable is perhaps the noblest of all antiquity, 
and pregnant with the mysteries and secrets ot 
nature. Pan, as the name imports, represents the 
universe, about whose origin there are two opinions, 
viz : that it either sprung from Mercury, that is, 
the divine word, according to the Scriptures and 
philosophical divines, or from the confused seeds 
of things. For they who allow only one beginning 
of all things, either ascribe it to God, or, if they 
suppose a material beginning, acknowledge it to be 
various in its powers ; so that the whole dispute 
comes to these points, viz : either that nature pro- 
ceeds from Mercury, or from Penelope and all her 
suitors." ^ 

The third origin of Pan seems borrowed by the 
Greeks from the Hebrew mysteries, either by means 
of the Egyptians, or otherwise ; for it relates to the 

1 This refers to the confused mixture of things, as sung by 
Virgil : — 

" Namque canebat uti magnum per inane coacta 
Semina terrarumque animreque marisque fuissent ; 
Et liquidi simul ignis ; ut his exordia primis 
Omnia, et ipse tener mundi concreverit orbis." — 

Ed. vi. 81. 



336 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

state of the world, not in its first creation, but as 
made subject to death and corruption after the fall ; 
and in this state it was and remains, the offspring 
of God and Sin, or Jupiter and Reproach. And 
therefore these three several accounts of Pan's birth 
may seem true, if duly distinguished in respect of 
things and times. For this Pan, or the universal 
nature of things, which we \dew and contemplate, 
had its origin from the divine word and confused 
matter, first created by God himself, with the 
subsequent introduction of sin, and, consequently, 
corruption. 

The Destinies, or the natures and fates of things, 
are justly made Pan's sisters, as the chain of natu- 
ral causes links together the rise, duration, and cor- 
ruption ; the exaltation, degeneration, and workings ; 
the processes, the effects, and changes, of all that 
can any way happen to things. 

Horns are given him, broad at the roots, but 
narrow and sharp at the top, because the nature of 
all things seems pyramidal ; for individuals are infi- 
nite, but being collected into a variety of species, 
they rise up into kinds, and these again ascend, and 
are contracted into generals, till at length nature 
may seem collected to a point. And no wonder if 
Pan's horns reach to the heavens, since the sublim- 
ities of nature, or abstract ideas, reach in a manner 
to things divine ; for there is a short and ready 
passage from metaphysics to natural theology. 

Pan's body, or the body of nature, is, with great 



PAN, OR NATURE. 337 

propriety and elegance, painted shaggy and hairy, 
as representing the rays of things; for rays are as 
the hair or fleece of nature, and more or less worn 
by all bodies. This evidently appears in vision, 
and in all effects and operations at a distance ; for 
whatever operates thus, may be properly said to 
emit rays.^ But particularly the beard of Pan is 
exceeding long, because the rays of the celestial 
bodies penetrate, and act to a prodigious distance, 
and have descended into the interior of the earth, 
so far as to change its surface ; and the sun himself, 
when clouded on its upper part, appears to the eye 
bearded. 

Again, the body of nature is justly described 
biform, because of the difference between its supe- 
rior and inferior parts, as the former, for their 
beauty, regularity of motion, and influence over the 
earth, may be properly represented by the human 
figure, and the latter, because of their disorder, ir- 
regularity, and subjection to the celestial bodies, are 
by the brutal. This biform figure also represents the 
participation of one species with another ; for there 
appear to be no simple natures, but all participate 
or consist of two : thus, man has somewhat of the 
brute, the brute somewhat of the plant, the plant 
somewhat of the mineral ; so that all natural bodies 



1 This is always supposed to be the case in vision, the mathe- 
matical demonstrations in optics proceeding invariably upon the 
assumption of this phenomenon. 



338 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

have really two faces, or consist of a superior and 
an inferior species. 

There lies a curious allegory in the making of 
Pan goat-footed, on account of the motion of ascent 
which the terrestrial bodies have towards the air 
and heavens ; for the goat is a clambering creature, 
that delights in climbing up rocks and precipices; 
and in the same manner the matters destined to this 
lower globe strongly affect to rise upwards, as ap- 
pears from the clouds and meteors. 

Pan's arms, or the ensigns he bears in his hands, 
are of two kinds — the one an emblem of harmony, 
the other of empire. His pipe, composed of seven 
reeds, plainly denotes the consent and harmony, or 
the concords and discords of things, produced by 
the motion of the seven planets. His crook, also, 
contains a fine representation of the ways of nature, 
which are partly straight and partly crooked ; thus 
the staiF, having an extraordinary bend towards the 
top, denotes that the works of Divine Providence 
are generally brought about by remote means, or in 
a circuit, as if somewhat else were intended rather 
than the effect produced, as in the sending of Joseph 
into Egypt, &c. So likewise in human goverment, 
they who sit at the helm, manage and wind the 
people more successfully by pretext and oblique 
courses, than they could by such as are direct and 
straight ; so that, in effect, all sceptres are crooked 
at the top. 

Pan's mantle, or clothing, is with great ingenuity 



PAN, OR NATURE. 339 

made of a leopard's skin, because of the spots it has ; 
for in like manner the heavens are sprinkled with 
stars, the sea with islands, the earth with flowers, 
and almost each particular thing is variegated, or 
wears a mottled coat. 

The office of Pan could not be more livelily ex- 
pressed than by making him the god of hunters ; for 
every natural action, every motion and process, is no 
other than a chase. Thus arts and sciences hunt out 
their works, and human schemes and counsels their 
several ends ; and all living creatures either hunt out 
their aliment, pursue their prey, or seek their pleas- 
ures, and this in a skilful and sagacious manner.^ 
He is also styled the god of the rural inhabitants, be- 
cause men in this situation live more according to 
nature than they do in cities and courts, where nature 
is so corrupted with effeminate arts, that the saying 
of the poet may be verified : — 

— pars minima est ipsa puella sui.^ 

He is likewise particularly styled President of the 
Mountains, because in mountains and lofty places 
the nature of things lies more open and exposed to 
the eye and the understanding. 

In his being called the messenger of the gods, next 
after Mercury, lies a divine allegory, as next after the 
Word of God, the image of the world is the herald of 

1 ** Torva lerena Inpura sequitur, lupus ipse capellam : 

Florentem cytisura sequitur lasciva capella." 

Firgil, Eel. ii. 63. 

2 Ovid, Rem. Amoris, v. 343. Mart. Epist. 



340 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

the Divine power and wisdom, according to the ex- 
pression of the Psalmist : " The heavens declare the 
glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handi- 
work." 1 

Pan is delighted with the company of the Nymphs, 
that is, the souls of all living creatures are the delight 
of the world; and he is properly called their gov- 
ernor, because each of them follows its own nature, 
as a leader, and all dance about their own respective 
rings, with infinite variety and never-ceasing motion. 
And with these continually join the Satyrs and Sileni, 
that is, youth and age ; for all things have a kind of 
young, cheerful, and dancing time ; and again their 
time of slowness, tottering, and creeping. And who- 
ever, in a true light, considers the motions and en- 
deavors of both these ages, like another Democritus, 
will perhaps find them as odd and strange as the 
gesticulations and antic motions of the Satyrs and 
Sileni. 

The power he had of striking terrors contains a 
very sensible doctrine ; for nature has implanted fear 
in all living creatures, as well to keep them from risk- 
ing their lives, as to guard against injuries and vio- 
lence ; and yet this nature or passion keeps not its 
bounds, but with just and profitable fears always 
mixes such as are vain and senseless ; so that all 
things, if we could see their insides, would appear 
full of panic terrors. Thus mankind, particularly the 
vulgar, labor under a high degree of superstition, 

1 Psalm xix. 1. 



PAN, OH NATURE. 341 

which is nothing more than a panic-dread, that 
principally reigns in unsettled and troublesome times. 

The presumption of Pan in challenging Cupid to 
the conflict denotes that matter has an appetite and 
tendency to a dissolution of the world, and falling 
back to its first chaos again, unless this depravity and 
inclination were restrained and subdued by a more 
powerful concord and agreement of things, properly 
expressed by Love, or Cupid : it is therefore well for 
mankind, and the state of all things, that Pan was 
thrown and conquered in the struggle. 

His catching and detaining Typhon in the net re- 
ceives a similar explanation ; for whatever vast and 
unusual swells, which the word typhon signifies, may 
sometimes be raised in nature, as in the sea, the clouds, 
the earth, or the like, yet nature catches, entangles, 
and holds all such outrages and insurrections in her 
inextricable net, wove, as it were, of adamant. 

That part of the fable which attributes the discovery 
of lost Ceres to Pan whilst he was hunting — a hap- 
piness denied the other gods, though they diligently 
and expressly sought her — contains an exceeding just 
and prudent admonition ; viz : that we are not to ex- 
pect the discovery of things useful in common life, as 
that of corn, denoted by Ceres, from abstract philos- 
ophies, as if these were the gods of the first order, — 
no, not though we used our utmost endeavors this 
way, — but only from Pan ; that is, a sagacious ex- 
perience and general knowledge of nature, which is 
often found, even by accident, to stumble upon such 



342 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

discoveries whilst the pursuit was directed another 
way. 

The event of his contending with Apollo in music 
affords us a useful instruction, that may help to hum- 
ble the human reason and judgment, which is too 
apt to boast and glory in itself. There seem to be 
two kinds of harmony, — the one of Divine provi- 
dence, the other of human reason ; but the govern- 
ment of the world, the administration of its affairs, 
and the more secret Divine judgments, sound harsh 
and dissonant to human ears or human judgment ; 
and though this ignorance be justly rewarded with 
asses' ears, yet they are put on and worn, not openly, 
but with great secrecy ; nor is the deformity of the 
thing seen or observed by the vulgar. 

We must not find it strange if no amours are re- 
lated of Pan besides his marriage with Echo ; for 
nature enjoys itself, and in itself all other things. He 
that loves, desires enjoyment, but in profusion there is 
no room for desire ; and therefore Pan, remaining 
content with himself, has no passion unless it be for 
discourse, which is well shadowed out by Echo, or 
talk, or, when it is more accurate, by Syrinx, or writ- 
ing.^ But Echo makes a most excellent wife for Pan, 
as being no other than genuine philosophy, whicli 
faithfully repeats his words, or only transcribes ex- 
actly as nature dictates; thus representing the true 
image and reflection of the world without adding a 
tittle. 

1 Syrinx, signifying a reed, or the ancient pen. 



PERSEUS, OR WAR. 343 

It tends, also, to the support and perfection of 
Pan, or nature, to be without offspring ; for the world 
generates in its parts, and not in the way of a whole, 
as wanting a body external to itself wherewith to 
generate. 

Lastly, for the supposed or spurious prattling 
dau2:hter of Pan, it is an excellent addition to the 
fable, and aptly represents the talkative philosophies 
that have at all times been stirring, and filled the 
world with idle tales ; being ever barren, empty, and 
servile, though sometimes indeed diverting and en- 
tertaining, and sometimes again troublesome and 
importunate. 



VII. — PERSEUS,^ OR WAR. 

EXPLAINED OF THE PREPARATION AND CONDUCT 
NECESSARY TO WAR. 

"The ftible relates, that Perseus was dispatched 
from the east, by Pallas, to cut off Medusa's head, 
who had committed great ravage upon the people of 
the west ; for this Medusa was so dire a monster, as 
to turn into stone all those who but looked upon her. 
She was a Gorgon, and the only mortal one of the 
three, the other two being invulnerable. Perseus, 
therefore, preparing himself for this grand enter- 
prise, had presents made him from three of the 

1 Ovid, Metam. b. iv. 



344 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

gods : Mercury gave him wings for his heels ; Pluto, 
a helmet ; and Pallas, a shield and a mirror. But, 
though he was now so well equipped, he posted not 
directly to Medusa, but first turned aside to the 
Greae, who were half-sisters to the Gorgons. These 
Grese were grayheaded, and like old women, from 
their birth, having among them all three but one eye, 
and one tooth, which, as they had occasion to go out, 
they each wore by turns, and laid them down again 
upon coming back. This eye and this tooth they 
lent to Perseus, who now judging himself sufficiently 
furnished, he, without further stop, flies swiftly 
away to ^ledusa, and finds her asleej). But not 
venturing his eyes, for fear she should wake, he 
turned his head aside, and viewed her in Pallas's 
mirror, and thus directing his stroke, cut off* her 
head; when immediately, from the gushing blood, 
there darted Pegasus mnged. Perseus now in- 
serted Medusa's head into Pallas's shield, which 
thence retained the faculty of astonishing and be- 
numbing all who looked on it." 

This fable seems invented to show the prudent 
method of choosing, undertaking, and conducting a 
war; and, accordingly, lays down three useful pre- 
cepts about it, as if they were the precepts of Pallas. 

The first is, that no prince should be over-solicit- 
ous to subdue a neighboring nation ; for the method 
of enlarging an empire is very different from that 
of increasing an estate. Regard is justly had to 
contiguity, or adjacency, in private lands and pos- 



PEESEUS, OR WAR. 345 

sessions ; but in the extending of empire, the occa- 
sion, the facility, and advantage of a war, are to be 
regarded instead of vicinity. It is certain that the 
Romans, at the time they stretched but little beyond 
Liguria to the west, had by their arms subdued the 
provinces as far as Mount Taurus to the east. And 
thus Perseus readily undertook a very long expe- 
dition, even from the east to the extremities of the 
west. 

The second precept is, that the cause of the war 
be just and honorable; for this adds alacrity both 
to the soldiers, and the people who find the supplies ; 
procures aids, alliances, and numerous other con- 
veniences. Now there is no cause of war more just 
and laudable than the suppressing of tyranny ; by 
which a people are dispirited, benumbed, or left 
without life and vigor, as at the sight of IVIedusa. 

Lastly, it is prudently added, that, as there were 
three of the Gorgons, who represent war, Perseus 
singled her out for this expedition that was mortal ; 
which affords this precept, that such kind of wars 
should be chose as may be brought to a conclusion 
without pursuing vast and infinite hopes. 

Again, Perseus's setting-out is extremely well 
adapted to his undertaking, and in a manner com- 
mands success ; he received dispatch from IVIercury, 
secrecy from Pluto, and foresight from Pallas. It 
also contains an excellent allegory, that the wings 
given him by Mercury were for his heels, not for 
his shoulders; because expedition is not so much 



346 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

required in the first preparations for war, as in the 
subsequent matters, that administer to the first ; for 
there is no error more frequent in war, than, after 
brisk preparations, to halt for subsidiary forces and 
effective supplies. 

The allegory of Pluto's helmet, rendering men 
invisible and secret, is sufficiently evident of itself ; 
but the mystery of the shield and the mirror lies 
deeper ; and denotes, that not only a prudent caution 
must be had to defend, like the shield, but also such 
an address and penetration as may discover the 
strength, the motions, the counsels, and designs of 
the enemy; like the mirror of Pallas. 

But though Perseus may now seem extremely 
well prepared, there still remains the most impor- 
tant thing of all ; before he enters upon the war, he 
must of necessity consult the Grese. These Grese 
are treasons ; half, but degenerate sisters of the Gor- 
gons; who are representatives of wars; for wars 
are generous and noble ; but treasons base and vile. 
The Grese are elegantly described as hoary-headed, 
and like old women from their birth ; on account of 
the perpetual cares, fears, and trepidations attend- 
ing traitors. Their force, also, before it breaks out 
into open revolt, consists either in an eye or a tooth ; 
for all faction, alienated from a state, is both watch- 
ful and biting; and this eye and tooth are, as it 
were, common to all the disaffected ; because what- 
ever they learn and know is transmitted from one 
to another, as by the hands of faction. And for 



PERSEUS, OR WAR. 347 

the tooth, they all bite with the same : and clamor 
with one throat; so that each of them singly ex- 
presses the multitude. 

These Grese, therefore, must be prevailed upon 
by Perseus to lend him their eye and their tooth ; 
the eye to give him indications, and make discov- 
eries ; the tooth for sowing rumors, raising envy, 
and stirring up the minds of the people. And when 
all these things are thus disposed and prepared, then 
follows the action of the war. 

He finds Medusa asleep ; for whoever undertakes 
a war with prudence, generally falls upon the 
enemy unprepared, and nearly in a state of security ; 
and here is the occasion for Pallas's mirror: for it 
is common enough, before the danger presents itself, 
to see exactly into the state and posture of the 
enemy ; but the principal use of the glass is, in the 
very instant of danger, to discover the manner 
thereof, and prevent consternation; which is the 
thing intended by Perseus's turning his head aside, 
and viewing the enemy in the glass. ^ 

Two effects here follow the conquest: 1. The 
darting forth of Pegasus ; which evidently denotes 
fame, that flies abroad, proclaiming the victory far 
and near. 2. The bearing of Medusa's head in the 
shield, which is the greatest possible defence and 

1 Thus it is the excellence of a general, early to discover what 
turn the battle is likely to take ; and looking prudently behind, as 
well as before, to pursue a victory so as not to be unprovided for a 
retreat. 



348 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

safeguard ; for one grand and memorable enterprise, 
happily accomplished, bridles all the motions and 
attempts of the enemy, stupefies disafibction, and 
quells commotions. 



VIII.— END YMIO]^, OR A FAVORITE. 

EXPLAINED OP COURT PAVORITES. 

The goddess Luna is said to have fallen in love 
'vvith the shepherd Endymion, and to have carried 
on her amours with him in a new and singular man- 
ner ; it being her custom, whilst he lay reposing in 
his native cave, under Mount Latmus, to descend 
frequently from her si)here, enjoy his company whilst 
he slept, and then go up to heaven again. And all 
this while, Endymion's fortune was no way prejudiced 
by his unactive and sleepy life, the goddess causing 
his flocks to thrive, and grow so exceeding numerous, 
that none of the other shepherds could compare 
with him. 

Explanation. — This fable seems to describe the 
tempers and dispositions of princes, who, being 
thoughtful and suspicious, do not easily admit to 
their privacies such men as are prying, curious, and 
vigilant, or, as it were, sleepless ; but rather such 
as are of an easy, obliging nature, and indulge them 
in their pleasures, without seeking anything further ; 



ENDYMION, OR A FAVORITE. 349 

but seeming ignorant, insensible, or, as it were, 
lulled asleep before them.^ Princes usually treat 
such persons familiarly; and quitting their throne, 
like Luna, think they may, with safety, unbosom to 
them. This temper was very remarkable in Tiberius, 
a prince exceedingly difficult to please, and who had 
no favorites but those that perfectly understood his 
way, and, at the same time, obstinately dissembled 
their knowledge, almost to a degree of stupidity. 

The cave is not improperly mentioned in the 
fable ; it being a common thing for the favorites of 
a prince to have their pleasant retreats, whither to 
invite him, by way of relaxation, though without 
prejudice to their own fortunes; these favorites 
usually making a good provision for themselves. 

For though their prince should not, perhaps, pro- 
mote them to dignities, yet, out of real affection, and 
not only for convenience, they generally feel the 
enriching influence of his bounty. 

1 It may be remembered that the Athenian peasant voted for 
the banishment of Aristides, because he was called the Just. 
Shakspeare forcibly expresses the same thought : — 
" Let me have men about me that are fat; 

Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights : 

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; 

He thinks too much : such men are dangerous. " 
If Bacon had completed his intended work upon ** Sympathy and 
Antipathy," the constant hatred evinced by ignorance of intellec- 
tual superiority, originating sometimes in the painful feeling of 
inferiority, sometimes in the fear of worldly injury would not 
have escaped his notice. 



350 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

IX. — THE SISTER OF THE GIANTS, OE FAME. 

EXPLAINED OF PUBLIC DETRACTION. 

The poets relate, that the giants, produced from 
the earth, made war upon Jupiter, and the other 
gods, but were repulsed and conquered by thunder ; 
whereat the earth, provoked, brought forth Fame, 
the youngest sister of the giants, in revenge for the 
death of her sons. 

Explanation. — The meaning of the fable seems 
to be this : the earth denotes the nature of the 
vulgar, who are always swelling, and rising against 
their rulers, and endeavoring at changes. This dis- 
position, getting a fit opportunity, breeds rebels and 
traitors, who, with impetuous rage, threaten and con- 
trive the overthrow and destruction of princes. 

And when brought under and subdued, the same 
vile and restless nature of the people, impatient of 
peace, produces rumors, detractions, slanders, libels, 
&c., to blacken those in authority ; so that rebellious 
actions and seditious rumors, differ not in origin and 
stock, but only, as it were, in sex ; treasons and re- 
bellions being the brothers, and scandal or detraction 
the sister. 



ACTEON AND PENTHEUS. 351 



X.— ACTEON AND PENTHEUS, OR A 
CURIOUS MAN. 

EXPLAINED OF CURIOSITY, OR PRYING INTO THE SECRETS 
OF PRINCES AND DIVINE MYSTERIES. 

The ancients afford us two examples for suppress- 
ing the impertinent curiosity of mankind, in diving 
into secrets, and imprudently longing and endeavoring 
to discover them. The one of these is in the person 
of Acteon, and the other in that of Pentheus. Acteon, 
undesignedly chancing to see Diana naked, was turned 
into a stag, and torn to pieces by his own hounds. 
And Pentheus, desiring to pry into the hidden mys- 
teries of Bacchus's sacrifice, and climbing a tree for 
that purpose, was struck with a frenzy. This frenzy 
of Pentheus caused him to see things double, particu- 
larly the sun, and his own city, Thebes, so that 
running homewards, and immediately espying another 
Thebes, he runs towards that ; and thus continues in- 
cessantly, tending first to the one, and then to the 
other, without coming at either. 

Explanation. — The first of these fables may re- 
late to the secrets of princes, and the second to divine 
mysteries. For they who are not intimate with a 
prince, yet, against his will, have a knowledge of his 
secrets, inevitably incur his displeasure ; and therefore, 
being aware that they are singled out, and all oppor- 
tunities watched against them, they lead the life of a 



352 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

stag, full of fears and suspicions. It likewise fre- 
quently happens that their servants and domestics 
accuse them, and plot ,their overthrow, in order to 
procure favor with the prince ; for whenever the king 
manifests his displeasure, the person it falls upon 
must expect his servants to betray him, and worry 
him down, as Acteon was worried by his own dogs. 

The punishment of Pentheus is of another kind ; 
for they who, unmindful of their mortal state, rashly 
aspire to divine mysteries, by climbing the heights of 
nature and philosophy, here represented by climbing 
a tree, — their fate is perpetual inconstancy, perplex- 
ity, and instability of judgment. For as there is one 
light of nature, and another light that is divine, they 
see, as it were, two suns. And as the actions of life, 
and the determinations of the will, depend upon the 
understanding, they are distracted as much in opinion 
as in will; and therefore judge very inconsistently, or 
contradictorily ; and see, as it were, Thebes double ; 
for Thebes being the refuge and habitation of Pen- 
theus, here denotes the ends of actions ; whence they 
know not what course to take, but remaining unde- 
termined and unresolved in their views and designs, 
they are merely driven about by every sudden gust 
and impulse of the mind. 



ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY. 353 

XL — ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY. 

EXPLAINED OF NATURAL AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Introduction. — The fable of Orpheus, though 
trite and common, has never been well interpreted, 
and seems to hold out a picture of universal philos- 
ophy ; for to this sense may be easily transferred what 
is said of his being a wonderful and perfectly divine 
person, skilled in all kinds of harmony, subduing and 
drawing all things after him by sweet and gentle 
methods and modulations. For the labors of Orpheus 
exceed the labors of Hercules, both in power and dig- 
nity, as the works of knowledge exceed the works of 
strength. 

Fable. — Orpheus having his beloved wife 
snatched from him by sudden death, resolved upon 
descending to the infernal regions, to try if, by the 
power of his harp, he could reobtain her. And, in 
effect, he so appeased and soothed the infernal powers 
by the melody and sweetness of his harp and voice, 
that they indulged him the liberty of taking her back, 
on condition that she should follow him behind, and 
he not turn to look upon her till they came into open 
day ; but he, through the impatience of his care and 
affection, and thinking himself almost past danger, 
at length looked behind him, whereby the condition 
was violated, and she again precipitated to Pluto's 

23 



354 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

regions. From this time Orpheus grew pensive and 
sad, a hater of the sex, and went into solitude, where, 
by the same sweetness of his harp and voice, he first 
drew the wild beasts of all sorts about him ; so that, 
forgetting their natures, they were neither actuated 
by revenge, cruelty, lust, hunger, or the desire of 
prey, but stood gazing about him, in a tame and gen- 
tle manner, listening attentively to his music. Nay, 
so great was the power and efficacy of his harmony, 
that it even caused the trees and stones to remove, 
and place themselves in a regular manner about him. 
When he had for a time, and with great admiration, 
continued to do this, at length the Thracian women, 
raised by the instigation of Bacchus, first blew a deep 
and hoarse-sounding horn, in such an outrageous 
manner, that it quite drowned the music of Orpheus. 
And thus the power which, as the link of their society, 
held all things in order, being dissolved, disturbance 
reigned anew ; each creature returned to its own na- 
ture, and pursued and preyed upon its fellow, as 
before. The rocks and woods also started back to 
their former places ; and even Orpheus himself was at 
last torn to pieces by these female furies, and his 
limbs scattered all over the desert. But, in sorrow 
and revenge for his death, the River Helicon, sacred 
to the Muses, hid its waters under ground, and rose 
again in other places. 

Explanation. — The fable receives this explana- 
tion. The music of Orpheus is of two kinds ; one 



ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY. 355 

that appeases the infernal powers, and the other that 
draws together the wild beasts and trees. The former 
properly relates to natural, and the hitter to moral 
philosophy, or civil society. The reinstatement and 
restoration of corruptible things is the noblest work 
of natural philosophy ; and, in a less degree, the 
preservation of bodies in their own state, or a preven- 
tion of their dissolution and corruption. And if this 
be possible, it can certainly be effected no other way 
than by proper and exquisite attemperations of nature; 
as it were by the harmony and fine touching of the 
harp. But as this is a thing of exceeding great diffi- 
culty, the end is seldom obtained ; and that, probably, 
for no reason more than a curious and unseasonable 
impatience and solicitude. 

And, therefore, philosophy, being almost unequal 
to the task, has cause to grow sad, and hence be- 
takes itself to human affairs, insinuating into men's 
minds the love of virtue, equity, and peace, by means 
of eloquence and persuasion ; thus forming men into 
societies ; bringing them under laws and regulations ; 
and making them forget their unbridled passions 
and affections, so long as they hearken to precepts 
and submit to discipline. And thus they soon after 
build themselves habitations, form cities, cultivate 
lands, plant orchards, gardens, &c. So that they 
may not improperly be said to remove and call the 
trees and stones together. 

And this regard to civil affairs is justly and reg- 
ularly placed after diligent trial made for restoring 



356 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

the mortal body ; the attempt being frustrated in the 
end — because the unavoidable necessity of death, 
thus evidently laid before mankind, animates them 
to seek a kind of eternity by works of perpetuity, 
character, and fame. 

It is also prudently added, that Orpheus was after- 
wards averse to women and wedlock, because the 
indulgence of the married state, and the natural 
affections which men have for their children, often 
prevent them from entering upon any grand, noble, 
or meritorious enterprise for the public good; as 
thinking it sufficient to obtain immortality by 
their descendants, without endeavoring at great 
actions. 

And even the works of knowledge, though the 
most excellent among human things, have their pe- 
riods ; for after kingdoms and commonwealths have 
flourished for a time, disturbances, seditions, and 
wars, often arise, in the din whereof, first the laws 
are silent, and not heard; and then men return to 
their own depraved natures — whence cultivated 
lands and cities soon become desolate and waste. 
And if this disorder continues, learning and philos- 
ophy is infallibly torn to pieces ; so that only some 
scattered fragments thereof can afterwards be found 
up and down, in a few places, like planks after a 
shipwreck. And barbarous times succeeding, the 
River Helicon dips under-ground ; that is, letters 
are buried, till things having undergone their due 



CCELUM, OR BEGINNINGS. 357 

course of changes, learning rises again, and shows 
its head, though seldom in the same place, but in 
some other nation.^ 



XII. — CCELUM, OR BEGINNINGS. 

EXPLAINED OF THE CREATION, OR ORIGIN OF ALL THINGS. 

The poets relate, that Coelum was the most an- 
cient of all the gods; that his parts of generation 
were cut off by his son Saturn ; that Saturn had a 
numerous offspring, but devoured all his sons, as 
soon as they were born; that Jupiter at length 
escaped the common fate ; and when grown up, 
drove his father Saturn into Tartarus ; usurped the 
kingdom ; cut off his father's genitals, with the same 
knife wherewith Saturn had dismembered Coelum, 
and throwing them into the sea, thence sprung 
Venus. 

Before Jupiter was well established in his empire, 
two memorable wars were made upon him ; the 
first by the Titans, in subduing of whom, Sol, the 
only one of the Titans who favored Jupiter, per- 
formed him singular service; the second by the 

1 Thus we see that Orpheus denotes learning ; Emydice, things, 
or the subject of learning ; Bacchus, and the Thracian women, men's 
ungoverned passions and appetites, &c. And in the same manner 
all the ancient fables might be familiarly illustrated, and brought 
down to the capacities of children. 



358 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

giants, who being destroyed and subdued by the 
thunder and arms of Jupiter, he now reigned secure. 

Explanation. — This fable appears to be an 
enigmatical account of the origin of all things, not 
greatly differing from the philosophy afterwards em- 
braced by Democritus, who expressly asserts the 
eternity of matter, but denies the eternity of the world; 
thereby approaching to the truth of sacred writ, 
which makes chaos, or uninformed matter, to exist 
before the six days' works. 

The meaning of the fable seems to be this : Coelum 
denotes the concave space, or vaulted roof that 
incloses all matter, and Saturn the matter itself, 
which cuts off all power of generation from his 
father; as one and the same quantity of matter 
remains invariable in nature, without addition or 
diminution. But the agitations and struggling mo- 
tions of matter, first produced certain imperfect and 
ill-joined compositions of things, as it were so many 
first rudiments, or essays of worlds ; till, in process 
of time, there arose a fabric capable of preserving 
its form and structure. Whence the first age was 
shadowed out by the reign of Saturn ; who, on 
account of the frequent dissolutions, and short dura- 
tions of things, was said to devour his children. 
And the second age was denoted by the reign of 
Jupiter; who thrust, or drove those frequent and 
transitory changes into Tartarus — a place expres- 
sive of disorder. This place seems to be the middle 



CCELUM, OR BEGINNINGS. 359 

space, between the lower heavens and the internal 
parts of the earth, wherem disorder, imperfection, 
mutation, mortality, destruction, and corruption, are 
principally found. 

Venus was not born during the former generation 
of things, under the reign of Saturn ; for whilst 
discord and jar had the upper hand of concord and 
uniformity in the matter of the universe, a change 
of the entire structure was necessary. And in this 
manner things were generated and destroyed, before 
Saturn was dismembered. But when this manner 
of generation ceased, there immediately followed 
another, brought about by Venus, or a perfect and 
established harmony of things ; whereby changes 
were wrought in the parts, whilst the universal fabric 
remained entire and undisturbed. Saturn, however, 
is said to be thrust out and dethroned, not killed, 
and become extinct ; because, agreeably to the opinioai 
of Democritus, the world might relapse into its old 
confusion and disorder, which Lucretius hoped would 
not happen in his time.^ 

But now, when the world was compact, and held 
together by its own bulk and energy, yet there was 
no rest from the beginning ; for first, there followed 
considerable motions and disturbances in the celestial 
regions, though so regulated and moderated by the 
power of the Sun, prevailing over the heavenly 
bodies, as to continue the world in its state. After- 

1 " Quod procul a nobis flectat Fortuna gubemans ; 
Et ratio potius quam res persuadeat ipsa." 



360 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

wards there followed the like in the lower parts, by 
inundations, storms, winds, general earthquakes, &c., 
which, however, being subdued and kept under, there 
ensued a more peaceable and lasting harmony, and 
consent of things. 

It may be said of this ftible, that it includes phi- 
losophy; and again, that philosophy includes the 
fable ; for we know, by faith, that all these things 
are but the oracle of sense, long since ceased and 
decayed; but the matter and fabric of the world 
being justly attributed to a creator. 



XIIL — PROTEUS, OR MATTER. 

EXPLAINED OF MATTER AND ITS CHANGES. 

Proteus, according to the poets, was Neptune's 
herdsman ; an old man, and a most extraordinary 
prophet, who understood things past and present, as 
well as future; so that besides the business of divi- 
nation, he was the revealer and interpreter of all 
antiquity, and secrets of every kind. He lived in 
a vast cave, where his custom was to tell over his 
herd of searcalves at noon, and then to sleep. Wlio- 
ever consulted him, had no other way of obtaining 
an answer, but by binding him with manacles and 
fetters ; when he, endeavoring to free himself, would 
change into all kinds of shapes and miraculous forms ; 
as of fire, water, wild beasts, &c. ; till at length he 
resumed his own shape again. 



PROTEUS, OR MATTER. 361 

Explanation. — This fable seems to point at 
the secrets of nature, and the states of matter. For 
the person of Proteus denotes matter, the oldest of 
all things, after God himself;^ that resides, as in a 
cave, under the vast concavity of the heavens. He 
is represented as the servant of Neptune, because 
the various operations and modifications of matter 
are principally wrought in a fluid state. The herd, 
or flock of Proteus, seems to be no other than the 
several kinds of animals, plants, and minerals, in 
which matter appears to diff'use and spend itself; 
so that after having formed these several species, 
and as it were finished its task, it seems to sleep and 
repose, without otherwise attempting to produce 
any new ones. And this is the moral of Proteus's 
counting his herd, then going to sleep. 

This is said to be done at noon, not in the morning 
or evening ; by which is meant the time best fitted 
and disposed for the production of species, from a 
matter duly prepared, and made ready beforehand, 
and now lying in a middle state, between its first 
rudiments and decline ; which, we learn from sacred 
history, was the case at the time of the creation ; 
when, by the efficacy of the divine command, matter 
directly came together, without any transformation 
or intermediate changes, which it affects ; instantly 
obeyed the order, and appeared in the form of 
creatures. 

And thus far the fable reaches of Proteus, and 

1 Proteus properly signifies primary, oldest, or first. 



362 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

his flock, at liberty and unrestrained. For the uni- 
verse, with the common structures, and fabrics of 
the creatures, is the face of matter, not under con- 
straint, or as the flock wrought upon and tortured 
by human means. But if any skilful minister of 
nature shall apply force to matter, and by design 
torture and vex it, in order to its annihilation, it, 
on the contrary, being brought under this necessity^ 
changes and transforms itself into a strange variety 
of shapes and appearances ; for nothing but the 
power of the Creator can annihilate, or truly destroy 
it; so that at length, running through the whole 
circle of transformations, and completing its period, 
it in some degree restores itself, if the force be con- 
tinued. And that method of binding, torturing, or 
detaining, will prove the most effectual and expedi- 
tious, which makes use of manacles and fetters ; 
that is, lays hold and works upon matter in tlie 
extremest degrees. 

The addition in the fable that makes Proteus a 
prophet, who had the knowledge of things past, 
present, and future, excellently agrees with the nature 
of matter ; as he who knows the properties, the 
changes, and the processes of matter, must, of neces- 
sity, understand the eflects and sum of what it does, 
has done, or can do, though his knowledge extends 
not to all the parts and particulars thereof. 



MEMNON, OR A YOUTH TOO FORWARD. 363 



XIV.— MEMNON, OR A YOUTH TOO 
FORWARD. 

EXPLAINED OF THE FATAL PRECIPITANCY OF YOUTH. 

The poets made Memnon the son of Aurora, and 
bring him to the Trojan war in beautiful armor, and 
flushed with popular praise ; where, thirsting after 
further glory, and rashly hurrying on to the greatest 
enterprises, he engages the bravest warrior of all the 
Greeks, Achilles, and falls by his hand in single com- 
bat. Jupiter, in commiseration of his death, sent birds 
to grace his funeral, that perpetually chanted certain 
mournful and bewailing dirges. It is also reported, 
that the rays of the rising sun, striking his statue, 
used to give a lamenting sound. 

Explanation. — This fable regards the unfor- 
tunate end of those promising youths, who, like sons 
of the morning, elate with empty hopes and glitter- 
ing outsides, attempt things beyond their strength ; 
challenge the bravest heroes ; provoke them to the 
combat; and, proving unequal, die in their high 
attempts. 

The death of such youths seldom fails to meet with 
infinite pity ; as no mortal calamity is more moving 
and afflicting, than to see the flower of virtue cropped 
before its time. Nay, the prime of life enjoyed to the 
full, or even to a degree of envy, does not assauge or 
moderate the grief occasioned by the untimely death 



364 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

of such hopeful youths ; but lamentations and bewail- 
ings fly, like mournful birds, about their tombs, for a 
long while after ; especially upon all fresh occasions, 
new commotions, and the beginning of great actions, 
the passionate desire of them is renewed, as by the 
sun's morning rays. 



XV.— TYTHONUS, OR SATIETY. 

EXPLAINED OF PREDOMINANT PASSIONS. 

It is elegantly fabled by Tythonus, that being ex- 
ceedingly beloved by Aurora, she petitioned Jupiter 
that he might prove immortal, thereby to secure her- 
self the everlasting enjoyment of his company; but 
through female inadvertence she forgot to add, that 
he might never grow old ; so that, though he proved 
immortal, he became miserably worn and consumed 
with age, insomuch that Jupiter, out of pity, at length 
transformed him to a grasshopper. 

Explanation. — This fable seems to contain an 
ingenious description of pleasure ; which at first, as 
it were in the morning of the day, is so welcome, 
that men pray to have it everlasting, but forget that 
satiety and weariness of it will, like old age, overtake 
them, though they think not of it ; so that at length, 
when their appetite for pleasurable actions is gone, 
their desires and afi*ections often continue; whence 



JUNO'S SUITOK, OK BASENESS. 365 

we commonly find that aged persons delight them- 
selves with the discourse and remembrance of the 
things agreeable to them in their better days. This is 
very remarkable in men of a loose, and men of a mili- 
tary life ; the former whereof are always talking over 
their amours, and the latter the exploits of their 
youth ; like grasshoppers, that show their vigor only 
by their chirping. 



XYI. — JU:^^0'S SUITOR, OR BASENESS. 

EXPLAINED OF SUBMISSION AND ABJECTION. 

The poets tell us, that Jupiter, to carry on his love- 
intrigues, assumed many different shapes ; as of a 
bull, an eagle, a swan, a golden shower, &c. ; but 
when he attempted Juno, he turned himself into the 
most ignoble and ridiculous creature, — even that of 
a wretched, wet, weather-beaten, affrighted, trembling 
and half-starved cuckoo. 

Explanation. — This is a wise fable, and drawn 
from the very entrails of morality. The moral is, that 
men should not be conceited of themselves, and 
imagine that a discovery of their excellences will 
always render them acceptable ; for this can only 
succeed according to the nature and manners of the 
person they court, or solicit; who, if he be a man not 
of the same gifts and endowments, but altogether of 



366 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

a haughty and contemptuous behavior, here repre- 
sented by the person of Juno, they must entirely drop 
the character that carries the least show of worth or 
gracefulness ; if they proceed upon any other footing, 
it is downright folly ; nor is it sufficient to act the 
deformity of obsequiousness, unless they really change 
themselves, and become abject and contemptible in 
their persons. 



XYIL — CUPID, OR AN ATOM. 

EXPLAINED OF THE CORPUSCULAR PHILOSOPHY. 

The particulars related by the poets of Cupid, or 
Love, do not properly agree to the same person, yet 
they differ only so far, that if the confusion of persons 
be rejected, the correspondence may hold. They say, 
that Love was the most ancient of all the gods, and 
existed before every thing else, except Chaos, which 
is held coeval therewith. But for Chaos, the ancients 
never paid divine honors, nor gave the title of a god 
thereto. Love is represented absolutely without pro- 
genitor, excepting only that he is said to have pro- 
ceeded from the egg of Nox ; but that himself begot 
the gods, and all things else, on Chaos. His attri- 
butes are four; viz: 1, perpetual infancy; 2, blind- 
ness; 3, nakedness; and 4, archery. 

There was also another Cupid, or Love, the 
youngest son of the gods, born of Venus ; and upon 



CUPID, OR AN ATOM. 367 

him tlxe attributes of the elder are transferred, with 
some degree of correspondence. 

Explanation. — This fable points at, and enters, 
the cradle of nature. Love seems to be the appe- 
tite, or incentive, of the primitive matter; or, to 
speak more distinctly, the natural motion, or moving 
principle, of the original corpuscles, or atoms; this 
being the most ancient and only power that made 
and wrought all things out of matter. It is abso- 
lutely without parent, that is, without cause ; for 
causes are as parents to effects; but this power or 
efficacy could have no natural cause ; for, excepting 
God, nothing was before it; and therefore it could 
have no efficient in nature. And as nothing is more 
inward with nature, it can neither be a genus nor a 
form ; and therefore, whatever it is, it must be 
somewhat positive, though inexpressible. And if it 
were possible to conceive its modus and process, yet 
it could not be known from its cause, as being, next 
to God, the cause of causes, and itself without a 
cause. And, perhaps, we are not to hope that the 
modus of it should fall, or be comprehended, under 
human inquiry. Whence it is properly feigned to 
be the egg of N'ox, or laid in the dark. 

The divine philosopher declares, that " God has 
made every thing beautiful in its season ; and has 
given over the world to our disputes and inquiries ; 
but that man cannot find out the work which God 
has wrought, from its beginning up to its end." 



368 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

Tims the summary or collective law of nature, or 
the principle of love, impressed by God upon the 
original particles of all things, so as to make them 
attack each other and come together, by the repeti- 
tion and multiplication whereof all the variety in the 
universe is produced, can scarce possibly find full 
admittance into the thoughts of men, though some 
faint notion may be had thereof. The Greek philos- 
ophy is subtile, and busied in discovering the ma- 
terial principles of things, but negligent and languid 
in discovering the principles of motion, in which 
the energy and efficacy of every operation consists. 
And here the Greek philosophers seem perfectly 
blind and childish ; for the opinion of the Peripa- 
tetics, as to the stimulus of matter, by privation, is 
little more than words, or rather sound than signifi- 
cation. And they who refer it to God, though they 
do well therein, yet they do it by a start, and not by 
proper degrees of assent ; for doubtless there is one 
summary, or capital law, in which nature meets, 
subordinate to God, viz: the law mentioned in the 
passage above quoted from Solomon ; or the work 
which God has wrought from its beginning to its end. 
Democritus, who further considered this subject, 
having first supposed an atom, or corpuscle, of some 
dimension or figure, attributed thereto an appetite, 
desire, or first motion simply, and another compar- 
atively, imagining that all things properly tended to 
the centre of the world ; those containing more mat- 
ter falling faster to the centre, and thereby remov- 



CUPID, OR AN ATOM. 369 

ing, and in the shock driving away, such as held 
less. But this is a slender conceit, and regards too 
few particulars ; for neither the revolutions of the 
celestial bodies, nor the contractions and expansions 
of things, can be reduced to this principle. And 
for the opinion of Epicurus, as to the declination 
and fortuitous agitation of atoms, this only brings 
the matter back again to a trifle, and wraps it up in 
ignorance and night. 

Cupid is elegantly drawn a perpetual child ; for 
compounds are larger things, and have their periods 
of age ; but the first seeds or atoms of bodies are 
small, and remain in a perpetual infant state. 

He is again justly represented naked; as all 
compounds may properly be said to be dressed and 
clothed, or to assume a personage ; whence nothing 
remains truly naked, but the original particles of 
things. 

The blindness of Cupid contains a deep allegory ; 
for this same Cupid, Love, or appetite of the world, 
seems to have very little foresight, but directs his 
steps and motions conformably to what he finds next 
him, as blind men do when they feel out their way ; 
which renders the divine and overruling Providence 
and foresight the more surprising ; as by a certain 
steady law, it brings such a beautiful order and reg- 
ularity of things out of what seems extremely casual, 
void of design, and, as it were, really blind. 

The last attribute of Cupid is archery, \iz : a 
virtue or power operating at a distance ; for every 

24 



370 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

thing that operates at a distance may seem, as it 
were, to dart, or shoot with arrows. And whoever 
allows of atoms and vacuity, necessarily supposes 
that the virtue of atoms operates at a distance ; for 
without this operation, no motion could be excited, 
on -account of the vacuum interposing, but all things 
would remain sluggish and unmoved. 

As to the other Cupid, he is properly said to be 
the youngest son of the gods, as his power could not 
take place before the formation of species, or par- 
ticular bodies. The description given us of him 
transfers the allegory to morality, though he still 
retains some resemblance with the ancient Cupid; 
for as Venus universally excites the affection of as- 
sociation, and the desire of procreation, her son 
Cupid applies the affection to individuals ; so that 
the general disposition proceeds from Venus, but the 
more close sympathy from Cupid. The former de- 
pends upon a near approximation of causes, but the 
latter upon deeper, more necessitating and uncon- 
trollable principles, as if they proceeded from the 
ancient Cupid, on whom all exquisite sympathies 
depend. 



DIOMED, OR ZEAL. 371 

XVIIL — DIOMED, OR ZEAL. 

EXPLAINED OP PERSECUTION, OR ZEAL FOR RELIGION. 

DiOMED acquired great glory and honor at the 
Trojan war, and was highly favored by Pallas, who 
encouraged and excited him by no means to spare 
Venus, if he should casually meet her in fight. He 
followed the advice with too much eagerness and 
intrepidity, and accordingly wounded that goddess 
in her hand. This presumptuous action remained 
unpunished for a time, and when the war was ended 
lie returned with great glory and renown to his own 
country, where, finding himself embroiled with do- 
mestic affairs, he retired into Italy. Here also at 
first he was well received and nobly entertained by 
King Daunus, who, besides other gifts and honors, 
erected statues for him over all his dominions. But 
upon the first calamity that afflicted the people after 
the stranger's arrival, Daunus immediately reflected 
that he entertained a devoted person in his palace, 
an enemy to the gods, and one who had sacrile- 
giously wounded a goddess with his sword, whom it 
was impious but to touch. To expiate, therefore, 
his country's guilt, he, without regard to the laws of 
hospitality, which were less regarded by him than 
the laws of religion, directly slew his guest, and 
commanded his statues and all his honors to be 
razed and abolished. Nor was it safe for others to 



372 WISDOxAI OF THE ANCIENTS. 

commiserate or bewail so cruel a destiny ; but even 
his companions in arms, whilst they lamented the 
death of their leader, and filled all places with their 
complaints, were turned into a kind of swans, which 
are said, at the approach of their own death, to chant 
sweet melancholy dirges. 

Explanation. — This fable intimates an extra- 
ordinary and almost singular thing, for no hero be- 
sides Diomed is recorded to have wounded any of 
the gods. Doubtless we have here described the 
nature and fate of a man who professedly makes 
any divine worship or sect of religion, though, in it- 
self vain and light, the only scope of his actions, and 
resolves to propagate it by fire and sword. For 
although the bloody dissensions and differences about 
religion were unknown to the ancients, yet so copious 
and diffusive was their knowledge, that what they 
knew not by experience they comprehended in 
thought and representation. Those, therefore, who 
endeavor to reform or establish any sect of religion, 
though vain, corrupt, and infamous (which is here 
denoted under the person of Yenus), not by the force 
of reason, learning, sanctity of manners, the weight 
of arguments, and examples, but would spread 
or extirpate it by persecution, pains, penalties, tor- 
tures, fire, and sword, may, perhaps, be instigated 
hereto by Pallas, that is, by a certain rigid, pruden- 
tial consideration, and a severity of judgment, by the 
vigor and efficacy whereof they see thoroughly into 



DIOMED, OR ZEAL. 373 

the fallacies and fictions of the delusions of this kind : 



and through aversion to depravity and a well-meant 
zeal, tliese men usually for a time acquire great fame 
and glory, and are by the vulgar, to whom no mod- 
erate measures can be acceptable, extolled and al- 
most adored, as the only patrons and protectors of 
truth and religion, men of any other disposition 
seeming, in comparison with these, to be lukewarm, 
mean-spirited, and cowardly. This fame and felicity, 
however, seldom endures to the end ; but all violence, 
unless it escapes the reverses and changes of things 
by untimely death, is commonly unprosperous in the 
issTie; and if a change of affairs happens, and that 
sect of religion which was persecuted and oppressed 
gains strength and rises again, then the zeal and 
warm endeavors of this sort of men are condemned, 
their very name becomes odious, and all their honors 
terminate in disgrace. 

As to the point that Diomed should be slain by 
his hospitable entertainer, this denotes that religious 
dissensions may cause treachery, bloody animosities, 
and deceit, even between the nearest friends. 

That complaining or bewailing should not, in so 
enormous a case, be permitted to friends affected by 
the catastrophe without punishment, includes this 
prudent admonition, that almost in all kinds of 
wickedness and depravity men have still room left 
for commiseration, so that they who hate the crime 
may yet pity the person and bewail his calamity, 
from a principle of humanity and good-nature ; and 



374 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

to forbid the overflowings and intercourses of pity 
upon such occasions were the extremest of evils; 
yet in the cause of religion and impiety the very 
commiserations of men are noted and suspected. 
On the other hand, the lamentations and complain- 
ings of the followers and attendants of Diomed, that 
is, of men of the same sect or persuasion, are usually 
very sweet, agreeable, and moving, like the dying 
notes of swans, or the birds of Diomed. This also 
is a noble and remarkable part of the allegory, de- 
noting that the last words of those who sufi'er for 
the sake of religion strongly affect and sway men's 
minds, and leave a lasting impression upon the sense 
and memory. 



XIX.— D.EDALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL. 

EXPLAINED OF ARTS AND ARTISTS IN KINGDOMS AND 
STATES. 

The ancients have left us a description of mechan- 
ical skill, industry, and curious arts converted to ill 
uses, in the person of Daedalus, a most ingenious 
but execrable artist. This Daedalus was banished 
for the murder of his brother artist and rival, yet 
found a kind reception in his banishment from the 
kings and states where he came. He raised many 
incomparable edifices to the honor of the gods, and 
invented many new contrivances for the beautifying 



DiEDALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL. 375 

and ennobling of cities and public places, but still he 
was most famous for wicked inventions. Among 
the rest, by his abominable industry and destructive 
genius, he assisted in the fatal and infamous pro- 
duction of the monster Minotaur, that devourer of 
promising youths. And then, to cover one mischief 
with another, and provide for the security of this 
monster, he invented and built a labyrinth ; a work 
infamous for its end and design, but admirable and 
prodigious for art and workmanship. After this, 
that he might not only be celebrated for wicked 
inventions, but be sought after, as well for preven- 
tion, as for instruments of mischief, he formed that 
ingenious device of his clue, which led directly 
through all the windings of the labyrinth. This 
Daedalus was persecuted by Minos with the utmost 
severity, diligence, and inquiry ; but he always found 
refuge and means of escaping. Lastly, endeavor- 
ing to teach his son Icarus the art of flying, the 
novice, trusting too much to his wings, fell from his 
towering flight, and was drowned in the sea. 

Explanation. — The sense of the fable runs 
thus. It first denotes envy, which is continually 
upon the watch, and strangely prevails among ex- 
cellent artificers ; for no kind of people are observed 
to be more implacably and destructively envious to 
one another than these. 

In the next place, it observes an impolitic and 
improvident kind of punishment inflicted upon 



376 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

Daedalus — that of banishment ; for good workmen 
are gladly received everywhere, so that banishment 
to an excellent artificer is scarce any punishment 
at all ; whereas other conditions of life cannot easily 
flourish from home. For the admiration of artists 
is propagated and increased among foreigners and 
strangers ; it being a principle in the minds of men 
to slight and despise the mechanical operators of 
their own nation. 

The succeeding part of the fable is plain, con- 
cerning the use of mechanic arts, whereto human 
life stands greatly indebted, as receiving from this 
treasury numerous particulars for the service of 
religion, the ornament of civil society, and the whole 
provision and apparatus of life ; but then the same 
magazine supplies instruments of lust, cruelty, and 
death. For, not to mention the arts of luxury and 
debauchery, we plainly see how far the business of 
exquisite poisons, guns, engines of war, and such 
kind of destructive inventions, exceeds the cruelty 
and barbarity of the Minotaur himself. 

The addition of the labyrinth contains a beautiful 
allegory, representing the nature of mechanic arts 
in general ; for all ingenious and accurate mechan- 
ical inventions may be conceived as a labyrinth, 
which, by reason of their subtilty, intricacy, crossing, 
and interfering with one another, and the apparent 
resemblances they have among themselves, scarce 
any power of the judgment can unravel and distin- 
guish ; so that they are only to be understood and 
traced by the clue of experience. 



D^DALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL. 377 

It is no less prudently added, that he who invented 
the windings of tho labyrinth, should also show the 
use and management of the clue ; for mechanical 
arts have an ambiguous or double use, and serve as 
well to produce as to prevent mischief and destruc- 
tion ; so that their virtue almost destroys or unwinds 
itself. 

UnlaAvful arts, and indeed frequently arts them- 
selves, are persecuted by Minos, that is, by laws, 
which prohibit and forbid their use among the 
people ; but notwithstanding this, they are hid, con- 
cealed, retained, and everywhere find reception and 
skulking-places ; a thing well observed by Tacitus 
of the astrologers and fortune-tellers of his time. 
"These," says he, "are a kind of men that will 
always be prohibited, and yet will always be retained 
in our city." 

But lastly, all unlawful and vain arts, of what 
kind soever, lose their reputation in tract of time ; 
grow contemptible and perish, through their over- 
confidence, like Icarus; being commonly unable to 
perform what they boasted. And to say the truth, 
such arts are better suppressed by their own vain 
pretensions, than checked or restrained by the bridle 
of laws.^ 

1 Bacon nowhere speaks with such freedom and perspicuity as 
under the pretext of explaining these ancient fables; for which 
reason they deserve to be the more read by such as desire to under- 
stand the rest of his works. 



378 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 



XX. — ERICTHONIUS, OR IMPOSTURE. 

EXPLAINED OF THE IMPROPER USE OF FORCE IN NATURAL 
PHILOSOPHY. 

The poets feign that Vulcan attempted the chas- 
tity of Minerva, and impatient of refusal, had re- 
course to force ; the consequence of which was the 
birth of Ericthonius, whose body from the middle 
upwards was comely and well-proportioned, but his 
thighs and legs small, shrunk, and deformed, like an 
eel. Conscious of this defect, he became the in- 
ventor of chariots, so as to show the graceful, but 
conceal the deformed part of his body. 

Explanation. — This strange fable seems to 
carry this meaning. Art is here represented under 
the person of Vulcan, by reason of the various uses 
it makes of fire ; and nature, under the person of 
Minerva, by reason of the industry employed in her 
works. Art, therefore, whenever it offers violence 
to nature, in order to conquer, subdue, and bend her 
to its purpose, by tortures and force of all kinds, 
seldom obtains the end proposed; yet upon great 
struggle and application, there proceed certain im- 
perfect births, or lame abortive works, specious in 
appearance, but weak and unstable in use ; which 
are, nevertheless, with great pomp and deceitful 
appearances, triumphantly carried about, and shown 
by impostors. A procedure very familiar, and re- 



DEUCALION, OR RESTITUTION. 379 

markable in chemical productions, and new mechan- 
ical inventions ; especially when the inventors rather 
hug their errors than improve upon them, and go on 
struggling with nature, not courting her. 



XXL — DEUCALION, OR RESTITUTION". 

EXPLAINED OF A USEFUL HINT IN NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The poets tell us, that the inhabitants of the old 
world being totally destroyed by the universal deluge, 
excepting Deucalion and Pyrrha, these two, desiring 
with zealous and fervent devotion to restore mankind, 
received this oracle for answer, that "they should 
succeed by throwing their mother's bones behind 
them." This at first cast them into great sorrow and 
despair, because, as all things were levelled by the 
deluge, it was in vain to seek their mother's tomb ; 
but at length they understood the expression of the 
oracle to signify the stones of the earth, which is 
esteemed the mother of all things. 

Explanation. — This fable seems to reveal a 
secret of nature, and correct an error familiar to the 
mind ; for men's ignorance leads them to expect the 
renovation or restoration of things from their cor- 
ruption and remains, as the phoenix is said to be 
restored out of its ashes ; which is a very improper 
procedure, because such kind of materials have 



380 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

finished their course, and are become absolutely unfit 
to supply the first rudiments of the same things again ; 
whence, in cases of renovation, recourse should be 
had to more common principles. 



XXII. — NEMESIS, OR THE VICISSITUDE 
OF THINGS. 

EXPLAINED OF THE REVERSES OF FORTUNE. 

Nemesis is represented as a goddess venerated by 
all, but feared by the powerful and the fortunate. 
She is said to be the daughter of Nox and Oceanus. 

She is drawn with wings, and a crown ; a javelin 
of ash in her right hand ; a glass containing Ethio- 
pians in her left; and riding upon a stag. 

Explanation. — The fable receives this explana- 
tion. The word Nemesis manifestly signifies revenge, 
or retribution ; for the office of this goddess consisted 
in interposing, like the Roman tribunes, vnth an " I 
forbid it," in all courses of constant and perpetual 
felicity, so as not only to chastise haughtiness, but 
also to repay even innocent and moderate happiness 
with adversity ; as if it were decreed, that none of 
human race should be admitted to the banquet of the 
gods, but for sport. And, indeed, to read over that 
chapter of Pliny wherein he has collected the mis- 
eries and misfortunes of Augustus Csesar, whom, of 
all mankind, one would judge most fortunate, — as 



NEMESIS. 381 

he had a certain vxt of using and enjoying prosperity, 
with a mind no way tumid, light, effeminate, confused, 
or melancholic, — one cannot but think this a very 
great and powerful goddess, who could bring such a 
victim to her altar.^ 

The parents of this goddess were Oceanus and 
Nox ; that is; the fluctuating change of things, and 
the obscure and secret divine decrees. The changes 
of things are aptly represented by the Ocean, on 
account of its perpetual ebbing and flowing; and 
secret providence is justly expressed by Night. 
Even the heathens have observed this secret Nemesis 
of the night, or the difference betwixt divine and 
human judgment.^ 

Wings are given to Nemesis, because of the sudden 
and unforeseen changes of things ; for, from the ear- 
liest account of time, it has been common for great 
and prudent men to fall by the dangers they most 
despised. Thus Cicero, when admonished by Brutus 
of the infidelity and rancor of Octavius, coolly wrote 
back : " I cannot, however, but be obliged to you, 
Brutus, as I ought, for informing me, though of such 
a trifle." ^ 

Nemesis also has her crown, by reason of the 
invidious and malignant nature of the vulgar, who 

1 As she also brought the author liiinself. 

2 " cadit Eipheus, justissimus unus, 

Qui fuit ex Teucris, et servantissimus sequi : 
Diis aliter visum." — JEncid, lib. ii. 

3 Te autem mi Brute sicut debeo, amo, quod istud quicquid est 
nugarum me scire voluisti. 



382 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

generally rejoice, triumph, and crown her, at the fall 
of the fortunate and the powerful. And for the 
javelin in her right hand, it has regard to those whom 
she has actually struck and transfixed. But whoever 
escapes her stroke, or feels not actual calamity or mis- 
fortune, she affrights wdth a black and dismal sight in 
her left hand ; for doubtless, mortals on the highest 
pinnacle of felicity have a prospect of death, diseases, 
calamities, perfidious friends, undermining enemies, 
reverses of fortune, &c., represented by the Ethiopians 
in her glass. Thus Virgil, with great elegance, 
describing the battle of Actium, says of Cleopatra, 
that "she did not yet perceive the two asps behind 
her ; " ^ but soon after, which way soever she turned, 
she saw whole troops of Ethiopians still before her. 

Lastly, it is significantly added, that Nemesis rides 
upon a stag, which is a very long-lived creature ; for 
though perhaps some, by an untimely death in youth, 
may prevent or escape this goddess, yet they who 
enjoy a long flow of happiness and power, doubtless 
become subject to her at length, and are brought to 
yield. 

^ ** Eegina iu mediis patrio vocat agmina sistro ; 
Necdum etiam geminos a tergo rospicit angues." 

JEneid, viii. 696. 



ACHELOUS, OR BATTLE. 383 

XXIII. — ACHELOUS, OR BATTLE. 

EXPLAINED OF WAR BY INVASION. 

The ancients relate, that Hercules and Achelous 
being rivals in the courtship of Deianira, the matter 
was contested by single combat ; when Achelous hav- 
ing transformed himself, as he had power to do, into 
various shapes, by way of trial ; at length, in the 
form of a fierce wild bull, prepares himself for the 
fight ; but Hercules still retains his human shape, 
engages sharply with him, and in the issue broke off 
one of the bull's horns ; and now Achelous, in great 
pain and fright, to redeem his horn, presents Hercules 
with the cornucopia. 

Explanation. — This fable relates to military 
expeditions and preparations ; for the preparation of 
war on the defensive side, here denoted by Achelous, 
appears in various shapes, whilst the invading side 
has but one simple form, consisting either in an army, 
or perhaps a fleet. But the country that expects the 
invasion is employed infinite ways, in fortifying towns, 
blockading passes, rivers, and ports, raising soldiers, 
disposing garrisons, building and breaking down 
bridges, procuring aids, securing provisions, arms, 
ammunition, &c. So that there appears a new face 
of things every day ; and at length, when the coun- 
try is sufficiently fortified and prepared, it represents 
to the life the form and threats of a fierce fighting 
bull. 



384 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

On the other side, the invader presses on to the 
fight, fearing to be distressed in an enemy's country. 
And if after the battle he remains master of the field, 
and has now broke, as it Avere, the horn of his enemy, 
the besieged, of course, retire inglorious, affrighted, 
and dismayed, to their stronghold, there endeavoring 
to secure themselves, and repair their strength ; leav- 
ing, at the same time, their country a prey to the 
conqueror, which is well expressed by the Amalthean 
horn, or cornucopia. 



XXIV.— DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. i 

EXPLAINED OF THE PASSIONS. 

The fable runs, that Semele, Jupiter's mistress, 
having bound him by an inviolable oath to grant her 
an unknown request, desired he would embrace her 
in the same form and manner he used to embrace 
Juno ; and the promise being irrevocable, she was 
burnt to death with lightning in the performance. 
The embryo, however, was sewed up, and carried in 
Jupiter's thigh till the complete time of its birth ; 
but the burden thus rendering the father lame, and 
causing him pain, the child was thence called Dio- 
nysus. When born, he was committed, for some 
years, to be nursed by Proserpina ; and when grown 
up, appeared with so effeminate a face, that his sex 

1 Ovid's Metamorphoses, b. iii., iv., and vi. ; and Fasti, iii. 767. 



DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. 385 

seemed somewliat doubtful. He also died, and was 
buried for a time, but afterwards revived. When a 
youth, he first introduced the cultivation and dressing 
of vines, the method of preparing wine, and taught 
the use thereof ; whence becoming famous, he subdued 
the world, even to the utmost bounds of the Indies. 
He rode in a chariot drawn by tigers. There danced 
about him certain deformed demons called Cobali, 
&c. The Muses also joined in his train. He married 
Ariadne, who was deserted by Theseus. The ivy 
was sacred to him. He was also held the inventor 
and institutor of religious rites and ceremonies, but 
such as were wild, frantic, and full of corruption and 
cruelty. He had also the power of striking men with 
frenzies. Pentheus and Orpheus were torn to pieces 
by the frantic women at his orgies; the first for 
climbing a tree to behold their outrageous ceremonies, 
and the other for the music of his harp. But the 
acts of this god are much entangled and confounded 
with those of Jupiter. 

Explanation. — This fable seems to contain a 
little system of morality, so that there is scarce any 
better invention in all ethics. Under the history of 
Bacchus, is drawn the nature of unlawful desire or 
aftection, and disorder ; for the appetite and thirst of 
apparent good is the mother of all unlawful desire, 
though ever so destructive, and all unlawful desires 
are conceived in unlawful wishes or requests, rashly 
indulged or granted before they are well understood 
25 



386 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

or considered, and when the affection begins to grow 
warm, the mother of it (the nature of good) is de- 
stroyed and burnt up by the heat. And whilst an 
unlawful desire lies in the embryo, or unripened in 
the mind, which is its father, and here represented 
by Jupiter, it is cherished and concealed, especially in 
the inferior part of the mind, corresponding to the 
thigh of the body, where pain twitches and depresses 
the mind so far as to render its resolutions and 
actions imperfect and lame. And even after this 
child of the mind is confirmed, and gains strength by 
consent and habit, and comes forth into action, it 
must still be nursed by Proserpina for a time ; that 
is, it skulks and hides its head in a clandestine man- 
ner, as it were under ground, till at length, when the 
checks of shame and fear are removed, and the requi- 
site boldness acquired, it either assumes the pretext 
of some virtue, or openly despises infamy. And it is 
justly observed, that every vehement passion appears 
of a doubtful sex, as having the strength of a man at 
first, but at last the impotence of a woman. It is 
also excellently added, that Bacchus died and rose 
again ; for the affections sometimes seem to die and 
be no more; but there is no trusting them, even 
though they were buried, being always apt and ready 
to rise again whenever the occasion or object offers. 

That Bacchus should be the inventor of wine, 
carries a fine allegory with it ; for every affection is 
cunning and subtle in discovering a proper matter to 
nourish and feed it ; and of all things known to 



DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. 387 

mortals, wine is the most powerful and effectual for 
exciting and inflaming passions of all kinds, being, 
indeed, like a common fuel to all. 

It is again, with great elegance, observed of Bac- 
chus, that he subdued provinces, and undertook 
endless expeditions, for the affections never rest satis- 
fied with what they enjoy, but with an endless and 
insatiable appetite thirst after something further. 
And tigers are prettily feigned to draw the chariot ; 
for as soon as any affection shall, from going on foot, 
be advanced to ride, it triumphs over reason, and 
exerts its cruelty, fierceness, and strength against all 
that oppose it. 

It is also humorously imagined, that ridiculous 
demons dance and frisk about this chariot ; for every 
passion produces indecent, disorderly, interchangeable 
and deformed motions in the eyes, countenance, and 
gesture, so that the person under the impulse, 
whether of anger, insult, love, &c., though to himself 
he may seem grand, lofty, or obliging, yet in the eyes 
of others appears mean, contemptible, or ridiculous. 

The Muses also are found in the train of Bacchus, 
for there is scarce any passion without its art, science, 
or doctrine to court and flatter it ; but in this respect 
the indulgence of men of genius has greatly detracted 
from the majesty of the Muses, who ought to be the 
leaders and conductors of human life, and not the 
handmaids of the passions. 

The allegory of Bacchus falling in love ^vith a 
cast mistress, is extremely noble; for it is certain 



388 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

that the affections always court and covet what has 
been rejected upon experience. And all those who 
by serving and indulging their passions immensely 
raise the value of enjoyment, should know, that 
whatever they covet and pursue, whether riches, 
pleasure, glory, learning, or anything else, they only 
pursue those things that have been forsaken and 
cast off with contempt by great numbers in all ages, 
after possession and experience. 

Nor is it without a mystery that the ivy was sa- 
cred to Bacchus, and this for two reasons : first, 
because ivy is an evergreen, or flourishes in the 
winter; and secondly, because it winds and creeps 
about so many things, as trees, walls, and buildings, 
and raises itself above them. As to the first, every 
passion grows fresh, strong, and vigorous by oppo- 
sition and prohibition, as it were by a kind of con- 
trast or antiperistasis, like the ivy in the winter. 
And for the second, the predominant passion of the 
mind throws itself, like the ivy, round all human 
actions, entwines all our resolutions, and perpetually 
adheres to, and mixes itself among, or even over- 
tops them. 

And no wonder that superstitious rites and cere- 
monies are attributed to Bacchus, when almost every 
ungovernable passion grows wanton and luxuriant 
in corrupt religions ; nor again, that fury and frenzy 
should be sent and dealt out by him, because every 
passion is a short frenzy, and if it be vehement, 
lasting, and take deep root, it terminates in mad- 



ATALANTA AND HIPPOMENES, OR GAIN. 389 

ness. And lience the allegory of Pentheus and 
Orpheus being torn to pieces is evident ; for every 
headstrong passion is extremely bitter, severe, in- 
veterate, and revengeful upon all curious inquiry, 
wholesome admonition, free counsel, and persuasion. 
Lastly ; the confusion between the persons of Ju- 
piter and Bacchus will justly admit of an allegory, 
because noble and meritorious actions may some- 
times proceed from virtue, sound reason, and mag- 
nanimity, and sometimes again from a concealed 
passion and secret desire of ill, however they may 
be extolled and praised, insomuch that it is not easy 
to distinguish betwixt the acts of Bacchus and the 
acts of Jupiter. 



XXV.— ATALANTA AND HIPPOMENES, 
OR GAIN. 

EXPLAINED OF THE CONTEST BETWIXT ART AND NATURE. 

Atalanta, who was exceedingly fleet, contended 
with Hippomenes in the course, on condition that, 
if Hippomenes won, he should espouse her, or for- 
feit his life if he lost. The match was very un- 
equal, for Atalanta had conquered numbers, to their 
destruction. Hippomenes, therefore, had recourse 
to stratagem. He procured three golden apples, 
and purposely carried them with him ; they started ; 
Atalanta outstripped him soon; then Hippomenes 
bowled one of his apples before her, across the 



390 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

course, in order not only to make her stoop, but to 
draw her out of the path. She, prompted by female 
curiosity, and the beauty of the golden fruit, starts 
from the course to take up the apple. Hippomenes, 
in the mean time, holds on his way, and steps before 
her ; but she, by her natural swiftness, soon fetches 
up her lost ground, and leaves him again behind. 
Hippomenes, however, by rightly timing his second 
and third throw, at length won the race, not by his 
swiftness, but his cunning. 

Explanation. — This fable seems to contain a 
noble allegory of the contest betwixt art and nature. 
For art, here denoted by Atalanta, is much swifter, 
or more expeditious in its operations than nature, 
when all obstacles and impediments are removed, 
and sooner arrives at its end. This appears almost 
in every instance. Thus, fruit comes slowly from 
the kernel, but soon by inoculation or incision ; clay, 
left to itself, is a long time in acquiring a stony 
hardness, but is presently burnt by fire into brick. 
So again, in human life, nature is a long while in 
alleviating and abolishing the remembrance of pain, 
and assuaging the troubles of the mind ; but moral 
philosophy, which is the* art of living, performs it 
presently. Yet this prerogative and singidar effi- 
cacy of art is stopped and retarded to the infinite 
detriment of human life, by certain golden apples; 
for there is no one science or art that constantly 
holds on its true and proper course to the end, but 



PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 391 

they are all continually stopping short, forsaking 
the track, and turning aside to profit and conven- 
ience, exactly like Atalanta.^ Whence it is no won- 
der that art gets not the victory over nature, nor, 
according to the condition of the contest, brings her 
under subjection; but, on the contrary, remains 
subject to her, as a wife to a husband.^ 



XXVL — PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE 

OF MAN. 

EXPLAINED OF AN OVERRULING PROVIDENCE, AND OF 
HUMAN NATURE. 

The ancients relate that man was the work of 
Prometheus, and formed of clay; only the artificer 
mixed in with the mass, particles taken from diff'er- 
ent animals. And being desirous to improve his 
workmanship, and endow, as well as create, the 
human race, he stole up to heaven with a bundle 
of birch-rods, and kindling them at the chariot of 

1 "Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile tollit." 

2 The author, in all his physical works, proceeds upon this 
foundation, that it is possible, and practicable, for art to obtain 
the victory over nature ; that is, for human industry and power to 
procure, by the means of proper knowledge, such things as are 
necessary to render life as happy and commodious as its mortal 
state will allow. For instance, that it is possible to lengthen the 
present period of human life ; bring the winds under command : 
and every way extend and enlarge the dominion or empire of man 
over the works of nature. 



392 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

the Sun, thence brought down fire to the earth for 
the service of men. 

They add that, for this meritorious act, Prome- 
theus was repayed with ingratitude by mankind, so 
that, forming a conspiracy, they arraigned both him 
and his invention before Jupiter. But the matter 
was otherwise received than they imagined; for 
the accusation proved extremely grateful to Jupiter 
and the gods, insomuch that, delighted with the 
action, they not only indulged mankind the use 
of fire, but moreover conferred upon them a most 
acceptable and desirable present, viz : perpetual 
youth. 

But men, foolishly overjoyed hereat, laid this 
present of the gods upon an ass, who, in returning 
back with it, being extremely thirsty, strayed to a 
fountain. The serpent, who was guardian thereof, 
would not suffer him to drink, but upon condition 
of receiving the burden he carried, whatever it 
should be. The silly ass complied, and thus the 
perpetual renewal of youth was, for a drop of water, 
transferred from men to the race of serpents. 

Prometheus, not desisting from his unwarrant- 
able practices, tliough now reconciled to mankind, 
after they were thus tricked of their present, but 
still continuing inveterate against Jupiter, had the 
boldness to attempt deceit, even in a sacrifice, and 
is said to have once oifered up two bulls to Jupiter, 
but so as in the hide of one of them to wrap all the 
flesh and fat of both, and stuffing out the other hide 



PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 393 

only with the bones ; then, in a religious and devout 
manner, gave Jupiter his choice of the two. Jupiter, 
detesting this sly fraud and hypocrisy, but having 
thus an opportunity of punishing the offender, pur- 
posely chose the mock bull. 

And now gi^'ing way to revenge, but finding he 
could not chastise the insolence of Prometheus 
without afflicting the human race (in the produc- 
tion whereof Prometheus had strangely and in- 
sufferably prided himself), he commanded Vulcan 
to form a beautiful and graceful woman, to whom 
every god presented a certain gift, whence she was 
called Pandora. 1 They put into her hands an ele- 
gant box, containing all sorts of miseries and mis- 
fortunes ; but Hope was placed at the bottom of 
it. With this box she first goes to Prometheus, to 
try if she could prevail upon him to receive and 
open it; but he being upon his guard, warily re- 
fused the offer. Upon this refusal, she comes to 
his brother Epimetheus, a man of a very different 
temper, who rashly and inconsiderately opens the 
box. When finding all kinds of miseries and mis- 
fortunes issued out of it, he grew wise too late, and 
with great hurry and struggle endeavored to clap 
the cover on again ; but Avith all his endeavor could 
scarce keep in Hope, which lay at the bottom. 

Lastly, Jupiter arraigned Prometheus of many 
heinous crimes; as that he formerly stole fire from 
heaven; that he contemptuously and deceitfully 

1 "All -gift." 



394 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

mocked him bj a sacrifice of bones ; that he de- 
spised his present/ adding withal a new crime, that 
he attempted to ravish Pallas; for all which, he 
was sentenced to be bound in chains, and doomed 
to perpetual torments. Accordingly, by Jupiter's 
command, he was brought to Mount Caucasus, and 
there fastened to a pillar, so firmly that he could no 
way stir. A vulture or eagle stood by him, which 
in the daytime gnawed and consumed his liver ; but 
in the night the wasted parts were supplied again ; 
whence matter for his pain was never wanting. 

They relate, however, that his punishment had 
an end; for Hercules sailing the ocean, in a cup, 
or pitcher, presented him by the Sun, came at length 
to Caucasus, shot the eagle with his arrows, and set 
Prometheus free. In certain nations, also, there 
were instituted particular games of the torch, to the 
honor of Prometheus, in which they who ran for 
the prize carried lighted torches ; and as any one 
of these torches happened to go out, the bearer 
withdrew himself, and gave way to the next ; and 
that person was allowed to win the prize, who first 
brought in his lighted torch to the goal. 

Explanation. — This fable contains and enforces 
many just and serious considerations ; some whereof 
have been long since well observed, but some again 
remain perfectly untouched. Prometheus clearly and 
expressly signifies Providence; for of all the things 

1 Viz : that by Pandora. 



PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 395 

in nature, the formation and endowment of man was 
singled out by the ancients, and esteemed the pe- 
culiar work of Providence. The reason hereof 
seems, 1. That the nature of man includes a mind 
and understanding, which is the seat of Providence. 
2. That it is harsh and incredible to suppose reason 
and mind should be raised, and drawn out of sense- 
less and irrational principles ; whence it becomes 
almost inevitable, that providence is implanted in 
the human mind in conformity with, and by the 
direction and the design of the greater overruling 
Providence. But, 3. The principal cause is this : 
that man seems to be the thing in which the whole 
world centres, with respect to final causes ; so that 
if he were away, all other things would stray and 
fluctuate, without end or intention, or become per- 
fectly disjointed, and out of frame; for all things 
are made subservient to man, and he receives use 
and benefit from them all. Thus the revolutions, 
places, and periods, of the celestial bodies, serve 
him for distinguishing times and seasons, and for 
dividing the world into different regions; the me- 
teors afford him prognostications of the weather; 
the winds sail our ships, drive our mills, and move 
our machines ; and the vegetables and animals of 
all kinds either afford us matter for houses and 
habitations, clothing, food, physic ; or tend to 
ease, or delight, to support, or refresh us so that 
everything in nature seems not made for itself, but 
for man. 



396 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

And it is not without reason added, that the mass 
of matter whereof man was formed, should be mixed 
up with particles taken from different animals, and 
wrought in with the clay, because it is certain, that of 
all things in the universe, man is the most com- 
pounded and recompounded body ; so that the 
ancients, not improperly, styled him a Microcosm, or 
little world within himself. For although the chem- 
ists have absurdly, and too literally, wrested and 
perverted the elegance of the term microcosm, w^hilst 
they pretend to find all kind of mineral and vegetable 
matters, or something corresponding to them, in man, 
yet it remains firm and unshaken, that the human 
body is, of all substances, the most mixed and or- 
ganical ; whence it has surprising powers and faculties; 
for the powers of simple bodies are but few, though 
certain and quick ; as being little broken, or weak- 
ened, and not counterbalanced by mixture ; but ex- 
cellence and quantity of energy reside in mixture and 
composition. 

Man, however, in his first origin, seems to be a 
defenceless, naked creature, slow in assisting him- 
self, and standing in need of numerous things. 
Prometheus, therefore, hastened to the invention of 
fire, which supplies and administers to nearly all 
human uses and necessities, insomuch that, if the soul 
may be called the form of forms, if the hand may be 
called the instrument of instruments, fire may, as 
properly, be called the assistant of assistants, or the 
helper of helps ; for hence proceed numberless opera- 



I 



PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 397 

tions, hence all the meclianic arts, and hence infinite 
assistances are atForded to the sciences themselves. 

The manner wherein Prometheus stole this fire is 
properly described from the nature of the thing ; he 
being said to have done it by applying a rod of birch 
to the chariot of the Sun ; for birch is used in strik- 
ing and beating, which clearly denotes the generation 
of fire to be from the violent percussions and col- 
lisions of bodies; whereby the matters struck arc 
subtilized, rarefied, put into motion, and so prei:)ared 
to receive the heat of the celestial bodies ; whence 
they, in a clandestine and secret manner, collect and 
snatch fire, as it wxre by stealth, from the chariot of 
the Sun. 

The next is a remarkable part of the fable, which 
represents that men, instead of gratitude and thanks, 
fell into indignation and expostulation, accusing both 
Prometheus and his fire to Jupiter, — and yet the 
accusation proved highly pleasing to Jupiter ; so that 
he, for this reason, crowned these benefits of man- 
kind with a new bounty. Here it may seem strange 
that the sin of ingratitude to a creator and benefactor, 
a sin so heinous as to include almost all others, should 
meet with approbation and reward. But the allegory 
has another view, and denotes, that the accusation 
and arraignment, both of human nature and human 
art among mankind, proceeds from a most noble and 
laudable temper of the mind, and tends to a very 
good purpose ; whereas the contrary temper is odious 
to the gods, and unbeneficial in itself. For they who 



398 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

break into extravagant praises of human nature, and 
the arts in vogue, and who lay themselves out in 
admiring the things they already possess, and will 
needs have the sciences cultivated among them, to be 
thought absolutely perfect and complete, in the first 
place, show little regard to the divine nature, whilst 
they extol their own inventions almost as high as his 
perfection. In the next place, men of this temper 
are unserviceable and prejudicial in life, whilst they 
imagine themselves already got to the top of things, 
and there rest, without further inquiry. On the con- 
trary, they who arraign and accuse both nature and 
art, and are always full of compaints against them, 
not only preserve a more just and modest sense of 
mind, but are also perpetually stirred up to fresh 
industry and new discoveries. Is not, then, the 
ignorance and fatality of mankind to be extremely 
pitied, whilst they remain slaves to the arrogance of 
a few of their own fellows, and are dotingly fond of 
that scrap of Grecian knowledge, the Peripatetic 
philosophy ; and this to such a degree, as not only to 
think all accusation or arraignment thereof useless, but 
even hold it suspect and dangerous ? Certainly the 
procedure of Empedocles, though furious — but es- 
pecially that of Democritus (who with great modesty 
complained that all things were abstruse ; that we 
know nothing ; that truth lies hid in deep pits ; that 
falsehood is strangely joined and twisted along with 
truth, &c.) — is to be preferred before the confident, 
assuming, and dogmatical school of Aristotle. Man- 



PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 399 

kind are, therefore, to be admonished, that the arraign- 
ment of nature and of art is pleasing to the gods ; 
and that a sharp and vehement accusation of Pro- 
metheus, though a creator, a founder, and a master, 
obtained new blessings and presents from the divine 
bounty, and proved more sound and serviceable than 
a diffusive harangue of praise and gratulation. And 
let men be assured that the fond opinion that they 
have already acquired enough, is a principal reason 
why they have acquired so little. 

That the perpetual flower of youth should be the 
present wliich mankind received as a reward for their 
accusation, carries this moral ; that the ancients seem 
not to have despaired of discovering methods, and 
remedies, for retarding old age, and prolonging the 
period of human life ; but rather reckoned it among 
those things which, through sloth and want of diligent 
inquiry, perish and come to nothing, after having 
been once undertaken, than among such as are ab- 
solutely impossible, or placed beyond the reach of 
the human power. For they signify and intimate 
from the true use of fire, and the just and strenuous 
accusation and conviction of the errors of art, that 
the divine bounty is not wanting to men in such kind 
of presents, but that men indeed are wanting to 
themselves, and lay such an inestimable gift upon the 
back of a slow-paced ass ; that is, upon the back of 
the heavy, dull, lingering thing, experience; from 
whose sluggish and tortoise-pace proceeds that ancient 
complaint of the shortness of life, and the slow 



400 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

advancement of arts. And certainly it may well seem, 
that the two faculties of reasoning and experience 
are not hitherto properly joined and coupled together, 
but to be still new gifts of the gods, separately laid, 
the one upon the back of a light bird, or abstract 
philosophy, and the other upon an ass, or slow-paced 
practice and trial. And yet good hopes might be 
conceived of this ass, if it were not for his thirst and 
the accidents of the way. For we judge, that if any 
one would constantly proceed, by a certain law and 
method, in the road of experience, and not by the 
way thirst after such experiments as make for profit 
or ostentation, nor exchange his burden, or quit the 
original design for the sake of these, he might be an 
useful bearer of a new and accumulated divine bounty 
to mankind. 

That this gift of perpetual youth should pass from 
men to serpents, seems added by way of ornament, and 
illustration to the fable ; perhaps intimating, at the 
same time, the shame it is for men, that they, with 
their fire, and numerous arts, cannot procure to them- 
selves those things which nature has bestowed upon 
many other creatures. 

The sudden reconciliation of Prometheus to man- 
kind, after being disappointed of their hopes, contains 
a prudent and useful admonition. It points out the 
levity and temerity of men in new experiments, when, 
not presently succeeding, or answering to expectation, 
they precipitantly quit their new undertakings, hurry 
back to their old ones, and grow reconciled thereto. 



PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 401 

After the fable has described the state of man, 
with regard to arts and intellectual matters, it passes 
on to religion; for after the inventing and settling 
of arts, follows the establishment of divine worship, 
which hypocrisy presently enters into and corrupts. 
So that by the two sacrifices we have elegantly 
painted the person of a man truly religious, and of an 
hypocrite. One of these sacrifices contained the fat, 
or the portion of God, used for burning and incensing ; 
thereby denoting affection and zeal, offered up to his 
glory. It likewise contained the bowels, which are 
expressive of charity, along with the good and useful 
flesh. But the other contained nothing more than 
dry bones, which nevertheless stuffed out the hide, so 
as to make it resemble a fair, beautiful, and magnifi- 
cent sacrifice ; hereby finely denoting the external 
and empty rites and barren ceremonies, wherewith 
men burden and stuff out the di^^ne worship, — things 
rather intended for show and ostentation than con- 
ducing to piety. Nor are mankind simply content 
with this mock-worship of God, but also impose and 
further it upon him, as if he had chosen and ordained 
it. Certainly the prophet, in the person of God, has 
a fine expostulation, as to this matter of choice : " Is 
this the fasting which I have chosen, that a man 
should afflict his soul for a day, and bow down his 
head like a bulrush ? " 

After thus touching the state of religion, the fable 
next turns to manners, and the conditions of human 
life. And though it be a very common, yet is it a 

26 



402 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

just interpretation, that Pandora denotes the pleas- 
ures and licentiousness which the cultivation and 
luxury of the arts of civil life introduce, as it were, 
by the instrumental efficacy of fire ; whence the works 
of the voluptuary arts are properly attributed to Vul- 
can, the God of Fire. And hence infinite miseries 
and calamities have proceeded to the minds, the 
bodies, and the fortunes of men, together with a late 
repentance ; and this not in each man's particular, but 
also in kingdoms and states ; for wars, and tumults, 
and tyrannies, have all arisen from this same fountain, 
or box of Pandora. 

It is worth observing, how beautifully and elegantly 
the fable has drawn two reigning characters in hu- 
man life, and given two examples, or tablatures of 
them, under the persons of Prometheus and Epime- 
theus. The followers of Epimetheus are improvident, 
see not far before them, and prefer such things as 
are agreeable for the present; whence they are op- 
pressed with numerous straits, difficulties, and calam- 
ities, with which they almost continually struggle ; 
but in the mean time gratify their own temper, and, 
for want of a better knowledge of things, feed their 
minds with many vain hopes ; and as with so many 
pleasing dreams, delight themselves, and sweeten 
the miseries of life. 

But the followers of Prometheus are the prudent, 
wary men, that look into futurity, and cautiously 
guard against, prevent, and undermine many calami- 
ties and misfortunes. But this watchful, provident 



PROMETHEUS, ORTHE STATE OF MAN. 403 

temper, is attended wdth a deprivation of numerous 
pleasures, and the loss of various delights, whilst 
such men debar themselves the use even of innocent 
things, and what is still worse, rack and torture 
themselves with cares, fears, and disquiets ; being 
bound fast to the pillar of necessity, and tormented 
with numberless thoughts (which for their swiftness 
are well compared to an eagle), that continually 
wound, tear, and gnaw their liver or mind, unless, 
perhaps, tliey find some small remission by intervals, 
or as it were at nights ; but then new anxieties, 
dreads, and fears, soon return again, as it were in 
the morning. And, therefore, very few men, of 
either temper, have secured to themselves the ad- 
vantages of providence, and kept clear of disquiets, 
troubles, and misfortunes. 

Nor indeed can any man obtain this end without 
the assistance of Hercules ; that is, of such fortitude 
and constancy of mind as stands prepared against 
every event, and remains indifferent to every change ; 
looking forward without being daunted, enjoying the 
good without disdain, and enduring the bad without 
impatience. And it must be observed, that even 
Prometheus had not the power to free himself, but 
owxd his deliverance to another ; for no natural in- 
bred force and fortitude could prove equal to such a 
task. The power of releasing him came from the 
utmost confines of the ocean, and from the sun; 
that is, from Apollo, or knowledge ; and again, from 
a due consideration of the uncertainty, instability, 



404 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

and fluctuating state of human life, which is aptly 
represented by sailing the ocean. Accordingly, 
Virgil has prudently joined these two together, ac- 
counting him happy who knows the causes of things, 
and has conquered all his fears, apprehensions, and 
superstitions.^ 

It is added, with great elegance, for supporting 
and confirming the human mind, that the great hero 
who thus delivered him sailed the ocean in a cup, 
or pitcher, to prevent fear, or complaint; as if, 
through the narrowness of our nature, or a too great 
fragility thereof, we were absolutely incapable of 
that fortitude and constancy to which Seneca finely 
alludes, when he says : " It is a noble thing, at once 
to participate in the frailty of man and the security 
of a god." 

We have hitherto, that we might not break the 
connection of things, designedly omitted the last 
crime of Prometheus — that of attempting the chas- 
tity of Minerva — which heinous offence it doubtless 
was, that caused the punishment of having his liver 
gnawed by the vulture. The meaning seems to be 
this, — that when men are pufl'ed up with arts 
and knowledge, they often try to subdue even the 
divine wisdom and bring it under the dominion of 
sense and reason, whence inevitably follows a per- 

1 " Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, 
Quique metus omnes et inexorabile fatum 
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari." 

Georg. ii. 490. 



PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 405 

petual and restless rending and tearing of the mind. 
A sober and humble distinction must, therefore, be 
made betwixt divine and human things, and betwixt 
the oracles of sense and faith, unless mankind had 
rather choose an heretical religion, and a fictitious 
and romantic philosophy.^ 

The last particular in the fable is the Games of 
the Torch, instituted to Prometheus, which again 
relates to arts and sciences, as well as the inven- 
tion of fire, for the commemoration and celebration 
whereof these games were held. And here we have 
an extremely prudent admonition, directing us to ex- 
pect the perfectien of the sciences from succession, 
and not from the swiftness and abilities of any single 
person; for he who is fleetest and strongest in the 
course may perhaps be less fit to keep his torch 
alight, since there is danger of its going out from too 
rapid as well as from too slow a motion.^ But this 
kind of contest, with the torch, seems to have been 
long dropped and neglected ; the sciences appearing 
to have flourished principally in their first authors, 
as Aristotle, Galen, Euclid, Ptolemy, &c. ; whilst 

^ De Augmentis Scientiarum, sec. xxviii. and supplem. xv. 

2 An allusion which, in Plato's writings, is applied to the rapid 
succession of generations, through which the continuity of human 
life is maintained from age to age ; and which are perpetually- 
transferring from hand to hand the concerns and duties of this 
fleeting scene. Vevv(bvT€S re koI €KTp^<povTe^ iraiSai, Kd&awep XafiirdSa 
Tov piov irapadiooi'Tes aXXots e^ dXXuv — Plato, Leg. b. vi. Lucre- 
tius also has the same metaphor : — 

"Et quasi cursores vital lampada tradunt." 



406 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

their successors have done very little, or scarce made 
any attempts. But it were highly to be wished 
that these games might be renewed, to the honor 
of Prometheus, or human nature, and that they 
might excite contest, emulation, and laudable en- 
deavors, and the design meet with such success as 
not to hang tottering, tremulous, and hazarded, upon 
the torch of any single person. INIankind, therefore, 
should be admonished to rouse themselves, and try 
and exert their own strength and chance, and not 
place all their dependence upon a few men, whose 
abilities and capacities, perhaps, are not greater than 
their own. 

These are the particulars which appear to us 
shadowed out by this trite and vulgar fable, though 
without denying that there may be contained in it 
several intimations that have a surprising corre- 
spondence with the Christian mysteries. In partic- 
ular, the voyage of Hercules, made in a pitcher, to 
release Prometheus, bears an allusion to the word 
of God, coming in the frail vessel of the flesh to 
redeem mankind. But we indulge ourselves no such 
liberties as these, for fear of using strange fire at 
the altar of the Lord. 



ICARUS, Oil THE MIDDLE WAY. 407 



XXVIL — ICARUS AND SCYLLA AND CHA- 
RYBDIS, OR THE MIDDLE WAY. 

EXPLAINED OF MEDIOCRITY IN NATURAL AND MORAL 
PHILOSOPHY. 

Mediocrity, or the holding a middle course, has 
been highly extolled in morality, but little in matters 
of science, though no less useful and proper here ; 
whilst in politics it is held suspected, and ought to 
be employed with judgment. The ancients described 
mediocrity in manners by the course prescribed to 
Icarus ; and in matters of the understanding by the 
steering betwixt Scylla and Charybdis, on account 
of the great difficulty and danger in passing those 
straits. 

Icarus, being to fly across the sea, was ordered 
by his father neither to soar too high nor fly too low, 
for, as his wings were fastened together with wax, 
there was danger of its melting by the sun's heat in 
too high a flight, and of its becoming less tenacious 
by the moisture if he kept too near the vapor of 
the sea. But he, with a juvenile confidence, soared 
aloft, and fell down headlong. 

Explanation. — The fable is vulgar, and easily 
interpreted ; for the path of virtue lies straight be- 
tween excess on the one side, and defect on the 
other. And no wonder that excess should prove 



408 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

the bane of Icarus, exulting in juvenile strength and 
vigor; for excess is the natural vice of youth, as 
defect is that of old age ; and if a man must perish 
by either, Icarus chose the better of the two; for 
all defects are justly esteemed more depraved than 
excesses. There is some magnanimity in excess, 
that, like a bird, claims kindred with the heavens ; 
but defect is a reptile, that basely crawls upon the 
earth. It was excellently said by Heraclitus : " A 
dry light makes the best soul ; " for if the soul con- 
tracts moisture from the earth, it perfectly degener- 
ates and sinks. On the other hand, moderation 
must be observed, to prevent this fine light from 
burning, by its too great subtility and dryness. But 
these observations are common. 

In matters of the understanding, it requires great 
skill and a particular felicity to steer clear of Scylla 
and Charybdis. If the ship strikes upon Scylla, it 
is dashed in pieces against the rocks ; if upon 
Charybdis, it is swallowed outright. This allegory 
is pregnant with matter ; but we shall only observe 
the force of it lies here, that a mean be observed in 
every doctrine and science, and in the rules and 
axioms thereof, between the rocks of distinctions 
and the whirlpools of universalities : for these two 
are the bane and shipwreck of fine geniuses and arts. 



SPHINX, OR SCIENCE. 409 



XXVIIL — SPHINX, OR SCIENCE. 

EXPLAINED OF THE SCIENCES. 

They relate that Sphinx was a monster, vari- 
ously formed, having the face and voice of a virgin, 
the wings of a bird, and the talons of a griffin. She 
resided on the top of a mountain, near the city 
Thebes, and also beset the highways. Her manner 
was to lie in ambush and seize the travellers, and 
having them in her power, to propose to them cer- 
tain dark and perplexed riddles, which it was thought 
she received from the ]Muses, and if her wretched 
captives could not solve and interpret these riddles, 
she, with great cruelty, fell upon them, in their hesi- 
tation and confusion, and tore them to pieces. This 
IDlague having reigned a long time, the Thebans at 
length offered their kingdom to the man who could 
interpret her riddles, there being no other way to 
subdue her. CEdipus, a penetrating and prudent 
man, though lame in his feet, excited by so great a 
reward, accepted the condition, and with a good as- 
surance of mind, cheerfully presented himself before 
the monster, who directly asked him : '' What crea- 
ture that was, which, being born four-footed, after- 
wards became two-footed, then three-footed, and lastly 
four-footed again ? " (Edipus, with presence of mind, 
replied it was man, who, upon his first birth and in- 
fant state, crawled upon all fours in endeavoring to 



410 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

walk ; but not long after went upright upon his two 
natural feet ; again, in old age walked three-footed, 
with a stick ; and at last, growing decrepit, lay four- 
footed confined to his bed ; and having by this exact 
solution obtained the victory, he slew the monster, 
and, laying the carcass upon an ass, led her away in 
triumph ; and upon this he was, according to the 
agreement, made king of Thebes, 

Explanation. — This is an elegant, instructive 
fable, and seems invented to represent science, espe- 
cially as joined with practice. For science may, with- 
out absurdity, be called a monster, being strangely 
gazed at and admired by the ignorant and unskilful. 
Her figure and form is various, by reason of the vast 
variety of subjects that science considers ; her voice 
and countenance are represented female, by reason of 
her gay appearance and volubility of speech ; wings 
are added, because the sciences and their inventions 
run and fly about in a moment, for knowledge like light 
communicated from one torch to another, is presently 
caught and copiously diffused; sharp and hooked talons 
are elegantly attributed to her, because the axioms 
and arguments of science enter the mind, lay hold of it, 
fix it down, and keep it from moving or slipping away. 
This the sacred philosopher observed, when he said : 
" The words of the wise are like goads or nails driven 
far in." ^ Again, all science seems placed on high, as 
it were on the tops of mountains that are hard to 

1 Eccles. xii. 11. 



SPHINX, OK SCIENCE. 411 

climb ; for science is justly imagined a sublime and 
lofty thing, looking down upon ignorance from an 
eminence, and at the same time taking an extensive 
view on all sides, as is usual on the tops of mountains. 
Science is said to beset the highways, because through 
all the journey and peregrination of human life there 
is matter and occasion offered of contemplation. 

Sphinx is said to propose various difficult questions 
and riddles to men, which she received from the 
Muses ; and these questions, so long as they remain 
with the Muses, may very well be unaccompanied 
with severity, for while there is no other end of con- 
templation and inquiry but that of knowledge alone, 
the understanding is not oppressed, or driven to straits 
and difficulties, but expatiates and ranges at large, 
and even receives a degree of pleasure from doubt and 
variety; but after the Muses have given over their 
riddles to Sphinx, that is, to practice, which urges 
and impels to action, choice, and determination, then 
it is that they become torturing, severe, and trying, 
and, unless solved and interpreted, strangely perplex 
and harass the human mind, rend it every way, and 
perfectly tear it to pieces. All the riddles of Sphinx, 
therefore, have two conditions annexed, viz : dilacera- 
tion to those who do not solve them, and empire to 
those that do. For he who understands the thing 
proposed, obtains his end, and every artificer rules 
over his work. ^ 

1 This is what the author so frequently inculcates in the Novum 
Organum, viz : that knowledge and power are reciprocal ; so that 



412 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

Sphinx has no more than two kmds of riddles, one 
relating to the nature of things, the other to the na- 
ture of man ; and correspondent to these, the prizes 
of the solution are two kinds of empire, — the empire 
over nature, and the empire over man. For the true and 
ultimate end of natural philosophy is dominion over 
natural things, natural bodies, remedies, macliines, 
and numberless other particulars, though the schools, 
contented with what spontaneously offers, and swollen 
with their own discourses, neglect, and in a manner 
despise, both things and works. 

But the riddle proposed to (Edipus, the solution 
whereof acquired him the Theban kingdom, regarded 
the nature of man ; for he who has thoroughly looked 
into and examined human nature, may in a manner 
command his own fortune, and seems born to acquire 
dominion and rule. Accordingly, Virgil properly 
makes the arts of government to be the arts of the 
Romans. ^ It was, therefore, extremely apposite in 
Augustus Caesar to use the image of Sphinx in his 
signet, whether this happened by accident or by 
design ; for he of all men was deeply versed in pol- 
itics, and through the course of his life very happily 
solved abundance of new riddles with regard to the 
nature of man ; and unless he had done this with 
great dexterity and ready address, he would frequently 

to improve in knowledge is to improve in the power of commanding 
nature, by introducing new arts, and producing works and effects. 
1 " Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento : 
Hffi tibi erunt artes." 

JEneid, vi. 851. 



PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 413 

have been involved in imminent danger, if not 
destruction. 

It is with the utmost elegance added in the fable, 
that when Sphinx was conquered, her carcass was 
laid upon an ass ; for there is nothing so subtile and 
abstruse, but after being once made plain, intelligible, 
and common, it may be received by the slowest 
capacity. 

We must not omit that Sphinx was conquered by 
a lame man, and impotent in his feet; for men 
usually make too much haste to the solution of 
Sphinx's riddles ; whence it happens, that she pre- 
vailing, their minds are rather racked and torn by 
disputes, than invested with command by works and 
effects. 



XXIX. — PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 

EXPLAINED OF THE SPIRIT INCLUDED IN NATURAL BODIES. 

They tell us, Pluto having, upon that memorable 
division of empire among the gods, received the in- 
fernal regions for his share, despaired of winning any 
one of the goddesses in marriage by an obsequious 
courtship, and therefore through necessity resolved 
upon a rape. Having watched his opportunity, he 
suddenly seized upon Proserpine, a most beautiful 
virgin, the daughter of Ceres, as she was gathering 
narcissus flowers in the meads of Sicily, and hurrying 



414 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

her to his chariot, carried her with him to the sub- 
terraueal regions, where she was treated with the 
highest reverence, and styled the Lady of Dis. But 
Ceres, missing her only daughter, whom she extremely 
loved, grew pensive and anxious beyond measure, and 
takinor a li":hted torch in her hand, wandered the 
world over in quest of her daughter, — but all to no 
purpose, till, suspecting she might be carried to the 
infernal regions, she, with great lamentation and 
abundance of tears, importuned Jupiter to restore her ; 
and with much ado prevailed so far as to recover and 
bring her away, if she had tasted nothing there. This 
proved a hard condition upon the mother, for Proser- 
pine was found to have eaten three kernels of a 
pomegranate. Ceres, however, desisted not, but fell 
to her entreaties and lamentations afresh, insomuch 
that at last it was indulged her that Proserpine should 
divide the year betwixt her husband and her mother, 
and live six months with the one and as many with 
the other. After this, ITheseus and Perithous, with 
uncommon audacity, attempted to force Proserpine 
away from Pluto's bed, but happening to grow tired 
in their journey, and resting themselves upon a stone 
in the realms below, they could never rise from it 
again, but remain sitting there forever. Proserpine, 
therefore, still continued queen of the lower regions, 
in honor of whom there was also added this grand 
privilege, that though it had never been permitted any 
one to return after having once descended thither, a 
particular exception was made, that he who brought a 



PKOSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 415 

golden bough as a present to Proserpine, might on 
that condition descend and return. This was an only 
bough that grew in a large dark grove, not from a 
tree of its own, but like the mistletoe from another, 
and when plucked away a fresh one always shot out 
in its stead. 

ExPLAXATiox. — This fable seems to regard nat- 
ural philosophy, and searches deep into that rich and 
fruitful virtue and supply in subterraneous bodies, 
from whence all the things upon the earth's surface 
spring, and into which they again relapse and return. 
By Proserpine, the ancients denoted that ethereal 
spirit shut up and detained within the earth, here 
represented by Pluto, — the spirit being separated 
from the superior globe, according to the expression 
of the poet. ^ This spirit is conceived as ravished, or 
snatched up by the earth, because it can in no way 
be detained, when it has time and opportunity to fly 
off, but is only wrought together and fixed by sudden 
intermixture and connninution, in the same manner as 
if one should endeavor to mix air with water, which 
cannot otherwise be done than by a quick and rapid 
agitation, that joins them together in froth whilst the 
air is thus caught up by the water. And it is ele- 
gantly added, that Proserpine was ravished whilst she 
gathered narcissus flowers, which have their name 
from numbedness or stupefaction ; for the spirit we 

1 ** Sive recens telliis, seJuctaque nuper ab alta 

^there, cognati retinebat semina coeli." — Metavi. i. 80. 



416 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

speak of is in the fittest disposition to be embraced by 
terrestrial matter when it begins to coagulate, or grow 
torpid as it w^ere. 

It is an honor justly attributed to Proserpine, and 
not to any other wife of the gods, that of being the 
lady or mistress of her husband, because this spirit 
performs all its operations in the subterraneal regions, 
whilst Pluto, or the earth, remains stupid, or as it 
were ignorant of them. 

The ether, or the efficacy of the heavenly bodies, 
denoted by Ceres, endeavors with infinite diligence to 
force out this spirit, and restore it to its pristine state. 
And by the torch in the hand of Ceres, or the ether, 
is doubtless meant the sun, which disperses light over 
the whole globe of the earth, and if the thing were 
possible, must have the greatest share in recovering 
Proserpine, or reinstating the subterraneal spirit. 
Yet Proserpine still continues and dwells below, after 
the manner excellently described in the condition be- 
twixt Jupiter and Ceres. For first, it is certain that 
there are two ways of detaining the spirit, in solid and 
terrestrial matter, — the one by condensation or ob- 
struction, which is mere \iolence and imprisonment; 
the other by administering a proper aliment, which is 
spontaneous and free. For after the included spirit 
begins to feed and nourish itself, it is not in a hurry 
to fly off, but remains as it were fixed in its own 
earth. And this is the moral of Proserpine's tasting 
the pomegranate ; and were it not for this, she must 
long ago have been carried up by Ceres, who with 



PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 417 

her torch wandered the world over, and so the earth 
have been left without its spirit. For though the 
spirit in metals and minerals may perhaps be, after a 
particular manner, wrought in by the solidity of the 
mass, yet the spirit of vegetables and animals has 
open passages to escape at, unless it be willingly 
detained, in the way of sipping and tasting them. 

The second article of agreement, that of Proser- 
pine's remaining six months with her mother and 
six with her husband, is an elegant description of 
the division of the year ; for the spirit diffused 
through the earth lives above-ground in the vege- 
table world during the summer months, but in the 
winter returns under ground again. 

The attempt of Theseus and Perithous to bring 
Proserpine away, denotes that the more subtile 
spirits, which descend in many bodies to the earth, 
may frequently be unable to drink in, unite with 
themselves, and carry off the subterraneous spirit, 
but on the contrary be coagulated by it, and rise 
no more, so as to increase the inhabitants and add 
to the dominion of Proserpine.^ 

The alchemists will be apt to fall in with our in- 
terpretation of the golden bough, whether we will 
or no, because they promise golden mountains, and 

^ Many philosophers have certain speculations to this piirpose. 
Sir Isaac Newton, in particular, suspects that the earth receives 
its vivifying spirit from the comets. And the philosophical 
chemists, and astrologers have spun the thought into many fan- 
tastical distinctions and varieties. — See Newton, Princip. lib. iii. 

p. 473, &c. 

27 



418 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

the restoration of natural bodies from their stone, 
as from the gates of Pluto ; but we are well as- 
sured that their theory had no just foundation, and 
suspect they have no very encouraging or practical 
proofs of its soundness. Leaving, therefore, their 
conceits to themselves, we shall freely declare our 
own sentiments upon this last part of the fable. 
We are certain, from numerous figures and expres- 
sions of the ancients, that they judged the conserva- 
tion, and in some degree the renovation, of natural 
bodies to be no desperate or impossible thing, but 
rather abstruse and out of the common road than 
wholly impracticable. And this seems to be their 
opinion in the present case, as they have placed 
this bough among an infinite number of shrubs, in 
a spacious and thick wood. They supposed it of 
gold, because gold is the emblem of duration. They 
feigned it adventitious, not native, because such an 
effect is to be expected from art, and not from any 
medicine or any simple or mere natural way of 
working. 



METIS, OR COUNSEL. 419 



XXX. — METIS, OR COUNSEL. 

EXPLAINED OF PRINCES AND THEIR COUNCIL. 

The ancient poets relate that Jupiter took Metis 
to wife, whose name plainly denotes counsel, and 
that he, perceiving she was pregnant by him, would 
by no means wait the time of her delivery, but di- 
rectly devoured her; whence himself also became 
pregnant, and was delivered in a wonderful manner ; 
for he from his head or brain brought forth Pallas 
armed. 

Explanation. — This fable, which in its literal 
sense appears monstrously absurd, seems to con- 
tain a state secret, and shows with what art kings 
usually carry themselves towards their council, in 
order to preserve their o\\ti authority and majesty 
not only inviolate, but so as to have it magnified 
and heightened among the people. For kings 
commonly link themselves, as it were, in a nuptial 
bond to their council, and deliberate and communi- 
cate with them after a prudent and laudable custom 
upon matters of the greatest importance, at the 
same time justly conceiving this no diminution of 
their majesty ; but when the matter once ripens to 
a decree or order, which is a kind of birth, the 
king then suffers the council to go on no further, 



420 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

lest the act should seem to depend upon their pleas- 
ure. Now, therefore, the king usually assumes to 
himself whatever was wrought, elaborated, or formed, 
as it were, in the womb of the council (unless it be 
a matter of an invidious nature, which he is sure 
to put from him), so that the decree and the execu- 
tion shall seem to flow from himself.^ And as this de- 
cree or execution proceeds with prudence and power, 
so as to imply necessity, it is elegantly wrapped 
up under the figure of Pallas armed. 

Nor are kings content to have this seem the effect 
of their own authority, free will, and uncontrollable 
choice, unless they also take the whole honor to 
themselves, and make the people imagine that all 
good and wholesome decrees proceed entirely from 
their own head, that is, their own sole prudence and 
judgment. 



XXXI. — THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES. 

EXPLAINED OF MEN's PASSION FOR PLEASURES. 

Introduction. — The fable of the Sirens is, in 
a vulgar sense, justly enough explained of the 
pernicious incentives to pleasure ; but the .ancient 

1 This policy strikingly characterized the conduct of Louis XIV., 
who placed his generals under a particular injunction, to advertise 
him of the success of any siege likely to be crowned with an im- 
mediate triumph, that he might attend in person and appear to 
take the town by a coup de main. 



THE SIRENS, OE PLEASURES. 421 

mythology seems to us like a vintage ill-pressed and 
trod ; for though something has been drawn from it, 
yet all the more excellent parts remain behind in the 
grapes that are untouched. 

Fable. — The Sirens are said to be the daughters 
of Achelous and Terpsichore, one of the Muses. In 
their early days they had wings, but lost them upon 
being conquered by the Muses, with whom they 
rashly contended; and with the feathers of these 
wings the Muses made themselves crowns, so that 
from this time the Muses wore wings on their heads, 
except only the mother to the Sirens. 

These Sirens resided in certain pleasant islands, 
and when, from their watch-tower, they saw any 
ship approaching, they first detained the sailors by 
their music, then, enticing them to shore, destroyed 
them. 

Their singing was not of one and the same kind, 
but they adapted their tunes exactly to the nature 
of each person, in order to captivate and secure him. 
And so destructive had they been, that these islands 
of the Sirens appeared, to a very great distance, 
white with the bones of their unburied captives. 

Two different remedies were invented to protect 
persons against them, the one by Ulysses, the other 
by Orpheus. Ulysses commanded his associates to 
stop their ears close with wax ; and he, determining 
to make the trial, and yet avoid the danger, ordered 
himself to be tied fast to a mast of the ship, giving 



422 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

strict charge not to be unbound, even though him- 
self should entreat it ; but Orpheus, without any 
binding at all, escaped the danger, by loudly chant- 
ing to his harp the praises of the gods, whereby he 
drowned the voices of the Sirens. 

Explanation. — This fable is of the moral kind, 
and appears no less elegant than easy to interpret. 
For pleasures proceed from plenty and affluence, 
attended with activity or exultation of the mind.^ 
Anciently their first incentives were quick, and 
seized upon men as if they had been winged, but 
learning and philosophy afterwards prevailing, had 
at least the power to lay the mind under some re- 
straint, and make it consider the issue of things, and 
thus deprived pleasures of their wings. 

This conquest redounded greatly to the honor and 
ornament of the Muses; for after it appeared, by 
the example of a few, that philosophy could intro- 
duce a contempt of pleasures, it immediately seemed 
to be a sublime thing that could raise and elevate 
the soul, fixed in a manner down to the earth, and 
thus render men's thoughts, which reside in the head, 
winged as it were, or sublime. 

Only the mother of the Sirens was not thus plumed 
on the head, which doubtless denotes superficial 
learning, invented and used for delight and levity; 

1 The one denoted by the river Achelous, and the other by 
Terpsichore, the muse that invented the cithara and delighted in 
dancing. 



THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES. 423 

an eminent example whereof we have in Petronius, 
who, after receiving sentence of death, still continued 
his gay frothy humor, and as Tacitus observes, used 
his learning to solace or divert himself, and instead 
of such discourses as give firmness and constancy 
of mind, read nothing but loose poems and verses.^ 
Such learning as this seems to pluck the crowns 
again from the Muses' heads, and restore them to 
the Sirens. 

The Sirens are said to inhabit certain islands, be- 
cause pleasures generally seek retirement, and often 
shun society. And for their songs, with the mani- 
fold artifice and destructiveness thereof, this is too 
obvious and common to need explanation. But 
that particular of the bones stretching like white 
cliffs along the shores, and appearing afar off, con- 
tains a more subtile allegory, and denotes that the 
examples of others' calamity and misfortunes, though 
ever so manifest and apparent, have yet but little 
force to deter the corrupt nature of man from 
pleasures. 

The allegory of the remedies against the Sirens 
is not difficult, but very wise and noble ; it proposes, 

1 "Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amenius ; 
Rumoresque senum sevei'ioruin 
Omnes unius estiraemus assis. " — Catull. Eleg. v. 

And again — 

"Jura senes norint, et quod sit fasque nefasque 
Inquirant tristes ; leguraque examina sevvent." 

Mctam. ix. 550. 



424 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 

in effect, three remedies, as well against subtile as 
violent mischiefs, two drawn from philosophy and 
one from religion. 

The first means of escaping is to resist the earli- 
est temptation in the beginning, and diligently avoid 
and cut off all occasions that may solicit or sway 
the mind; and this is well represented by shutting 
up the ears, a kind of remedy to be necessarily used 
with mean and vulgar minds, such as the retinue of 
Ulysses. 

But nobler spirits may converse, even in the midst 
of pleasures, if the mind be well guarded with 
constancy and resolution. And thus some delight 
to make a severe trial of their own virtue, and 
thoroughly acquaint themselves with the folly and 
madness of pleasures, without complying or being 
wholly given up to them; which is what Solomon 
professes of himself when he closes the account of 
all the numerous pleasures he gave a loose to, with 
this expression: "But wisdom still continued with 
me." Such heroes in virtue may, therefore, remain 
unmoved by the greatest incentives to pleasure, 
and stop themselves on the very precipice of dan- 
ger; if, according to the example of Ulysses, they 
turn a deaf ear to pernicious counsel, and the 
flatteries of their friends and companions, which 
have the greatest power to shake and unsettle 
the mind. 

But the most excellent remedy, in every tempta- 
tion, is that of Orpheus, who, by loudly chanting 



THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES. 425 

and resounding the praises of the gods, conlbiuukMl 
the voices, and kept himself from hearing tlie music 
of the Sirens ; for divine contemplations exceed the 
pleasures of sense, not only in power but also in 
sweetness. 



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